How to Save a Life
by Colbie15
Summary: What if removing the Mark of Cain from Dean meant it was ripped from him body and soul? How can Sam and Cas help him recover? Spoilers through Season 10 but none for Season 11 because this story goes in a completely different direction. Not Slash.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I began working on this story before the beginning of Season 11 so none of what we know about The Darkness applies. The Mark was having a pretty big effect on Dean so this is my take on the impact of having it removed. Some things happen differently than the Season 10 finale. Some things are the same. Read to find out what changes! Expect lots of brotherly bonds and friendship, but no slash. Chapter 1 is essentially a prologue so I'll post chapter 2 pretty quickly. Thanks for reading!_

 _ **How Castiel Got His Wings Back**_

I have been watching over my friend for weeks. On this day, like most days, music the Winchester brothers referred to as classic rock played softly in the background. I tuned out the music hours before until I heard the words urging the listener to carry on and promising rest and no more tears. It is ironic. Watching one brother lay comatose on his bed can hardly be called rest. And the other seems to produce little more than tears.

If I were been human, I believe I would cry as well. But I have no tears to shed. Instead, I am forced to watch over the elder brother with no outlet for the hopelessness I feel. But I watch because someone has to and because the younger Winchester could no longer tolerate the screams and thrashing from his unconscious brother.

As an angel, I should have a level of detachment as I watch over humans in my charge, but I do not. I have long since lost impartiality, not only for these brothers but for all of humanity.

For millennia, I had not known the true anguish or the true joy that humans feel. Then I was a human for a time. I learned why food and drink could be more than sustenance for the body. I understood the urge for sex and I realized why humans craved the company of others – why they needed family and friends. I discovered that being connected to another person is so essential in life. I had not known despair that only a human could feel. I had witnessed it before, but I had never comprehended it until the scribe of God stole my grace.

Even emotions I thought I understood bore a new meaning to me when I was human. As an angel, I feel guilt, regret, sorrow, fear and even love and hate. Those feelings were heightened to me after my grace was stolen from me. As I watch this man screaming in his sleep, I do not understand how such powerful beings could consider these fragile humans to be such a threat.

Though I now relate to humanity on a deeper level, I mourn that fact that the angels I once served with in Heaven are no longer my family. My family is now these two flawed and troubled brothers who sacrificed so much for the greater good. They lost their entire family and all of their friends – except for me. I cannot heal Dean. And I cannot take the pain away from Sam. Despite all of the powers I possess, I am powerless to remove their suffering.

From an outsider's point of view, I suppose my existence now would not differ greatly from the one I led only weeks before. I was a fallen angel whose primary purpose was to help the Winchesters – brothers who had been both revered and reviled in my heavenly home. Even the angels who hated them are astounded at how they always seemed to defy the odds. They overcame insurmountable obstacles to accomplish the impossible, like stopping the apocalypse. They have defeated a myriad of monsters, angels and archangels, demons, and Lucifer himself. They very nearly closed the gates of hell until Dean prevented Sam from sacrificing himself to do so.

I have come to believe that these brothers were so despised in heaven because they were feared. When they work together, they could do anything. Time and again, they have proven how much they would sacrifice for each other. They survived longer on this earth than even they expected.

Yet it is that this great strength also is their greatest weakness. I learned during my time serving as an angel on earth that life is a grand paradox. The last shall be first. Those who serve shall lead. Those who start out with the least can rise to accomplish the most. And this love and loyalty the brothers have for each other it is how they overcame so many obstacles and defeated so much evil. Yet it is the fatal flaw that makes them susceptible to their enemies and sometimes at odds with each other.

My relationship with these brothers that now defines my very being is in itself a paradox. It is why I became a fallen angel in the first place. But it was also why my wings were repaired and I regained my full power as an angel. Although I was essentially kicked out of Heaven, I am now trusted with a more important mission. And it was why I am watching over the Winchester brothers at his juncture. These boys who grew up without a home and spent their lives fighting evil are _that_ important to the universe. As their friend, I would not have hesitated to watch over them. Guarding them now serves a much higher purpose.

I could say that my fate was tied to theirs the day I pulled Dean from perdition. And it was. I felt an unexpected connection to Dean as a person, not just the flawed soul with a greater mission that I pulled from Hell.

But this part of their story began, I suppose, when Dean accepted the Mark from Cain so that he could rid the world of another evil – the Knight of Hell, Abaddon. She was a very old and powerful demon who could not have been stopped without Dean's sacrifice.

At the time, Dean did not see the Mark of Cain as a sacrifice. Rather, I believe he saw it as penance in part for not being able to watch his brother kill himself in order to permanently close gates of hell. He took the mission of killing Abaddon upon himself – with coaxing from the King of Hell. Dean didn't even ask the consequences of accepting the Mark. He didn't care because he felt so much guilt for betraying his brother when he tricked him into allowing an angel to possess him.

The consequence Dean should have seen, but did not, was how far Sam would go to remove the Mark's curse from him. Dean was always more than willing to risk everything to save Sam from anything that threatened him. It was more of a compulsion – his duty as the older brother. But Sam felt the same need to protect his brother. He felt he owed Dean as much. And he could not imagine this life as a hunter without his brother. The actions he took to save Dean were both selfless and selfish at the same time.

It was a risky move by Sam to enlist the witch Rowena to help remove the Mark. He left me with the duty of making sure the Rowena completed her task by gathering the three items she needed for the spell. Despite my concerns that the price of such magic would be catastrophic, I helped because I was desperate to save Dean as well.

Sam didn't know and I didn't know that removing the Mark would unleash the most malicious power that had ever existed upon the universe. I had heard rumors of the Darkness that had preceded time itself, but I did not know the Mark of Cain was the lock and key that kept it contained.

When Crowley brought to Rowena the ingredients she needed to remove the Mark, God was forced to intervene. I do not know where God had been or why he had remained silent for so long, but it was clear that he would not allow the Darkness to take over the universe again. Despite my struggles in understanding my father, I had to consider that perhaps, He had been watching all along.

The final ingredient for the spell – a boy named Oskar who was the only thing that Rowena loved – disappeared as Crowley brought him in. Moments later, I too, disappeared from their sight.

I was brought to Heaven's garden that was tended by the angel Joshua. He had a message for me. God couldn't allow the Darkness to be released, yet he wanted Dean to be free of the Mark of Cain.

God granted me the power to remove the Mark from Dean. Joshua handed me a box that had been made from wood from the tree of good and evil from the Garden of Eden. It was the only substance that would contain the Mark. He instructed me to transfer the Mark from Dean's arm to the box and return it to Joshua, who would hide it in safe place. I wasn't told where and I didn't want to know.

"And you'll need these," Joshua said as he touched my broken wings. They were immediately whole again.

I can't explain how overcome I was to be chosen for such a task. I had done some terrible things in the past. Many angels died at my hand, and I was ashamed. I was weighed down by my actions and my efforts to atone for my sins never alleviated my guilt. Even the year I spent in purgatory was insufficient.

"Why me?" I asked, unbelieving of the gift I had just be given. "Why did he choose me?"

"Because God commanded that we love these humans as much as he loves them," Joshua explained. "And you did."

Joshua said that God was offering me another chance and then cautioned me that the task ahead of me would not be an easy one.

Removing the Mark would cause great pain to the one who bore it, Joshua explained. It would cause potentially lethal damage to Dean once it was stripped away. Power from the Mark had woven its way through his body and through his soul. Even he didn't know if Dean would survive. If he died, I would not be able to resurrect him. His death would be final.

Joshua also warned me that Dean's recovery would be long and arduous. If he did survive, his struggles would not be over – for a person like Dean would always feel the weight of his actions. Despite all of Dean's flaws, God knew him to be a good man at heart.

Finally, I was told to guard the brothers for as long as it took for they would have one more mission to complete. When I asked what that mission would be, Joshua said that all would become clear in time.

When I was sent back, my first task was to kill Rowena because she would gain so much power from the Book of the Damned, she eventually would become impossible to destroy. I had to kill her while she could be killed.

In what was only seconds to Crowley and Rowena, I appeared before them again. I told Crowley to leave. As much as I would have liked to eliminate the King of Hell, I could not afford to divide my focus. So I let him escape. However, as I tried to kill Rowena, I discovered her power already exceeded mine. She escaped the chains and stole the codex that would decipher all she needed from the Book of the Damned.

It was the first failure of the task God had assigned to me. Rowena would have to be dealt with later. I had little time to stop Dean, and I was determined not to fail again. I was certain that if Dean had succeeded in killing Sam, nothing I could have done would have saved him.

It scares me even now that I was almost too late to save him. But Dean couldn't go through with killing the brother he had spent his entire life trying to protect. That bond between them could not be severed even when it had been weakened through the evil coursing through Dean's body and Sam's deception in trying to free him of the Mark.

Though the passing weeks since are just trifling amount of time compared with the millennia I have lived, it has felt like an eternity. Dean seems to be getting worse and my optimism about his survival is fading.

The music playing in the background has ended and the room is silent. The elder Winchester's screams have become so common place that it takes me a few seconds to realize the room is too quiet. I look urgently to his face to see if he has given up the fight. Instead I notice his eyes open and blink uncomfortably at the light. It has been seven weeks and six days since the Mark of Cain has been removed from his arm.

Dean Winchester is finally awake.


	2. Chapter 2

_**How Dean Discovered He Was No Longer Marked by Cain**_

I had never known any life besides the one of being a hunter. For most of my life, it was all I wanted. One of the few times I considered living any other way was the year I spent with Lisa and Ben. They were my family and I loved them. A big regret was that I never told how much they meant to me. Still, I knew they loved me and they accepted me despite how messed up I was.

I loved them enough to stow away the Impala with most of the arsenal that would kill the things that go bump in the night. The only weapons in the house were one gun, one bottle of holy water and plenty of salt. Under the rug in the foyer was a devil's trap – just in case.

An even bigger regret is that they were not enough to make me happy. I was overwhelmed with grief for how I lost my brother. I was consumed with guilt for not being able to save him from hell. I was still bitter because I had to choose between saving him and saving the world. I was always worried – always anxious. I couldn't protect Sam. What if I couldn't protect this family?

In the past few months, I again considered that perhaps this life as a hunter was a worthless sacrifice from the beginning. It cost me nearly every one I cared about except for Sam, and I had come close to losing him time after time. I stepped over the line several times to save him, and I would do it all again. Damn the consequences.

I have done some terrible things for what seemed to be a greater good. I have begun to wonder if I have done more harm in the long run. The Mark on my arm, I fear, has changed me into something evil. I am more afraid that there was enough evil already inside of me that it took very little for me to succumb to it.

As I open my eyes, I remember some truly terrifying nightmares – or perhaps they were memories. I'm not sure. These memories or dreams – or whatever they were – leave me with piercing headache. As I blink at the light that seems far too bright, my head feels like it could explode in pain. I hear a familiar, gravelly voice speaking my name. Looking toward the sound, I can only see the vague outline of a trench coat.

I try to speak but my mouth is too dry and my throat hurts as if I have been yelling. I am both relieved to know Cas is there and afraid because Sam is not. Though I can't remember where I am or what happened, I know that it was something terrible.

"Take it easy," Cas says gently me as he lifts my head to give me water. I drink it because I need to ask him one thing.

"Sam ...," is all I can say – and I can barely say that. Cas doesn't respond and that scares me. Because I can't see his face, I don't know whether he even heard me. I blink until the room finally comes into a clearer view. The face I see watching me is bloody and bruised. A memory surges through my head – a memory of me attacking Cas and raising the angel blade to kill him.

"No," I moan as I squeeze my eyes closed again. This can't be real. He can't be here if I killed him. As I open my eyes again, I expect him to be gone. Instead he is still here, but unhurt, sitting on the bed to comfort me.

"I killed you," I mutter.

"No," he assures me. "You did not."

"But I hurt you," I press.

"I heal fast." He tries to sound indifferent as if me beating him was no big deal. But it was a big deal because I remember _wanting_ to hurt him – even wanting to kill him.

"I'm sorry," I say, but I still can't quite remember what happened. And I don't know what else to say.

"I'm stronger than I look," he jokes again, making light of what I had done to him. I try to acknowledge that he has already forgiven me, but my head hurts and I can't acclimate myself to what's around me. Another vision pops into my head and I panic, grabbing the lapel on his coat. "Sam!" My effort to shout for him is little more than a husky whisper. But I need to know. "Did I kill my brother?"

"No." Cas' voice is firm but I don't believe him.

"I remember …." I couldn't make myself say the words, but I saw myself standing over Sam with a curved blade some sort.

"Sam's alive," Cas says again. He's calm and convincing, but it isn't enough. My hands are still attached to his coat, so I use him as leverage to sit up. I need to find Sam. If he were alive, he would be here, wouldn't he?

Cas complies with my need to get up. He helps me sit on the edge of the bed while I look around. I am in my room in the bunker but I have no idea how I got here. "Where's Sam?"

"Stay," Cas commands and disappears. I blink and remember what it's like to have an angel for a friend – always vanishing without explanation. It occurs to me that his wings are broken and he shouldn't be able to do that. But apparently, he can because he's back within seconds with two pills and some more water. I shake my head wondering if his broken wings were just another bad dream.

"Take these while I call Sam."

He doesn't explain where Sam is, but its comfort enough to know that Cas can contact him. Though he's whispering into the phone, I still hear his side of the conversation. "He's awake …. Just now …. He's confused and he appears to be in some pain …. No, of course I won't leave him alone."

Cas looks back at me as if to make sure I'm still here. Frankly, I don't have much of a choice. I don't think I have the strength to stand, much less to leave. I look at him expectantly.

"He's about half an hour out. He'll be here soon." Cas smiles for the first time since I woke up. "It's good to see you, Dean."

While we're waiting for Sam, I pepper Cas with questions. He patiently answers everything I ask, but I have a feeling he's only telling me part of the story. He tells me that I was out for almost two months and he explains where Sam went and why he isn't there. He decided to bring the Impala home from Nebraska.

Cas places two fingers on my forehead to heal me, I suppose, because I feel a little better – sort of. At least I don't feel like I've been hit by a truck and my throat doesn't hurt.

"I can't fix the headache," he apologizes. "Or the memory loss. Or the visions that you'll have."

I wonder how he knows about those, but he's angel so I don't question it. He helps me stand and leads me toward the kitchen because he thinks I need some food. I'm not hungry, but I follow because I want answers.

"What happened to me?" I ask. I don't even remember being in Nebraska. We make it to the map room and I head for the liquor instead of the kitchen.

Cas sighs but allows me a bourbon as he answers. "The Mark. Look at your arm."

I squint at Cas because I've seen the Mark on my arm too damn much. But he waits without further comment. I gasp and rub the spot where the Mark used to be. Something knocks at my memory. There was a price to have it removed. I remember that, but I don't remember what that price was.

Looking back at Cas, I wait for him to explain and I am frustrated when he doesn't.

"How?" I manage to ask.

"It is a very long story, Dean. I will explain it to you, but you must eat first." He urges me to follow him to the kitchen. "You need your strength."

Another stab of pain cuts through my head as I see another vision – a memory. The images are vague but the meaning is clear. Sam was the price. Cas immediately appears by my side. I realize the pain is so intense that I drop to the floor. He has come to my aid.

He lifts me to my feet, but I raise a hand to push him away. "I need to know, Cas," I say with as much force as my weakened voice will allow. "Did I try to kill Sam?"

Cas sighs and apparently decides that the truth is best. He leads me to a chair and nudges me to sit. "It was your intention, but you couldn't go through with it."

My heart sinks. It crushes me that I considered killing my little brother. It meant very little that I couldn't go through with it because, regardless, I had betrayed him. "I don't know if I can face him," I say, mostly to myself but loudly enough that Cas hears.

"You will face him," Cas replies with an unexpected insistence in voice. "Sam has spent the last two months agonizing over your condition. Most of it, he spent by your side. He needs to see that you are alive and coherent." With a shrug, he adds, "Somewhat coherent."

Obviously he and Sam believed that I would die. I wish I had. It would be easier than living with all the terrible things I had done. It would be easier than knowing that I betrayed my brother. There's something more. I know there is, but I can't remember.

His voice softens as my head drops because I'm too ashamed to look at Cas much less face Sam. "Dean, I know this is difficult. And as you remember more, it may get more difficult."

My head snaps up at that comment. What could possibly be worse than trying to kill Sam – or trying to kill Cas, for that matter? "Thanks for the encouragement," I mutter. I expect him to miss the sarcasm but he surprises me again by his next comment.

"Sam needs to take care of you. He needs to know that you'll be okay."

Maybe it was because my brain was scrambled, but what he was saying didn't make sense to me. I am confused as I search his face for more answers. Then it occurs to me that Sam had been determined to free me of the Mark. Cas wasn't saying how it was removed. I had to know what Sam had done. I start to ask when I hear my name from the entrance of the bunker. Sam has returned.

I look toward my brother, who is standing across the room from me, and I hardly recognize him. His hair is longer than usual and unkempt. His face is covered in a thick beard. He looks worn and somehow older than his 33 years. He seems relieved to see me. But it's the anguished look in his eyes that grab my attention. I can't place the moment, but I know I've seen him look at me that way before.

It takes his long legs only a few steps to cross the room to reach me as another vision rushes through my head – just a snippet of his tear-filled eyes staring at me and nodding. I can't remember why he looks so devastated or what he's telling me to do. The vision lasts only a moment.

Sam grabs me and pulls me into a hug so tight that it briefly knocks me off balance. I don't fall because he has such a grasp on me. I push away all of my confusion and I hug him back because, above all else, I'm glad to see him too.

Then the vision starts again and I'm pulled away from the moment as memories begin flooding back. I remember summoning Death asking him to kill me and learning that he can't kill me and he can't remove the Mark. If it was removed, a terrible evil would be released into the world. The Mark I bore was the lock and key. I remember his one condition for sending me so far away that I would never be able to hurt another person. I agree to that condition and call my brother into a trap.

I tried to explain to Sam that we are really evil and he needed to die so I can be isolated from everyone. He started a fight which I effortlessly won. I could have killed him then. I could have snapped his neck or simply beaten him to death. But I didn't want it to end like that. I wanted him to understand why this had to happen.

And finally he agrees that I need to be stopped – yet still insisting that it was the Mark that was evil, not me. "Do it," he consented, giving Death permission to kill him. I wondered if his consent was supposed to make this easier, because it didn't. When Death handed me the scythe, my heart skipped a few beats. But I was certain this was the only way. And hadn't Cain predicted this moment? I was convinced there was no other ending to this.

But I couldn't do it with his pain-filled eyes watching me. It was almost a plea when I told my little brother to close his eyes so I could kill him. Instead of closing them, he laid before me two pictures of our mother.

As I looked at the pictures, all I could think was that our mother risked everything to make sure her children had a normal life. Sam _wanted_ to be normal, but I pulled him back into an existence that ultimately forced him to be killed by his own brother. And through it all, Sam believed that I was still good. My chest throbbed as I wondered how in the hell could I do this to the person that I had spent my life trying to protect. My job had always been to keep him safe. But Death was waiting behind me to do the deed if I couldn't.

I pulled my eyes from the pictures back to my little brother. "Forgive me," I pleaded, hoping he would understand the words I could not say. _Forgive me for putting you in this position. For being angry at you for trying to save me._ _Forgive me for letting you down._

When I lifted the blade, I knew that I was about to do the most insane thing I had ever done in my life by swinging the scythe over my brother's head and aiming it toward Death.

As the vision ends, I find myself crumpled on the floor with Sam holding me. The pain in my head is so intense, I can hardly think.

"Dean," Sam cries out to me. I look up to him and again those anguished eyes are staring at me. I remember what I almost did to him, and it's more than I can stand. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"It's okay," his trembling voice tries to assure me. "You're going to be okay."

I don't think he understands why I'm sorry. I've tried to take his life twice now. As he was saving me when I was a demon, I tried to kill him. He waved away my apology then. The things I did – the things I said – weren't really me, he told me then. We never spoke of them again.

This time, I wasn't a demon. Even though I was still infected by the Mark, I was human. And I traded his life to Death. I'll never be able to make up for that betrayal.

I pinch my eyes closed to counter the chilling moments of that memory. I wonder whether the darkness had been released. I wonder if Sam had found another host for the Mark. As my headache eases, I remember one last terrifying detail. I sit up, startling Sam with my sudden movement. My vision had ended a moment too soon.

It is with a sinking sense of dread that I ask my brother, "Did I kill Death?"


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I very much appreciate everyone who has taken the time read this story. So far, we've heard from Cas and Dean. Now it's time to get Sam's perspective. Once I get past how all of the guys react to Dean waking up, the story should move along a little faster. Thanks for hanging on with me!

 _ **Where, o Death, is thy sting**_

I am beyond exhausted. It's not just the physical exhaustion I feel from having too little sleep. Every part of my being is just so tired. How many times have I watched Dean die? It's been more than I can count. And I don't mean _almost_ or _mostly_ dead. I've watched the breath leave his body and the light fade from his eyes. Each and every time has taken a part of me. I don't think I can go through that again.

For weeks, I sat by my brother's bed while he lay unmoving. I would beg him just to make a sound — anything to show me that he was still in there. And then he did, and I learned that in this horribly screwed up life I live, I needed to be careful for what I wished.

When he started moaning in his sleep, I actually thought it was progress. But then he began to thrash around in the bed and the moans eventually turned into screams. And for the several days before I left, he did nothing but scream my name. I'm not sure if, in his dreams, he was trying to save me or kill me. The Dean with the Mark of Cain had tried to do both. Either way, he was suffering, and I couldn't watch anymore.

Though we aren't the sort to say the words to each other, I love my brother very much, and I know he loves me. He's proven it time and again. He saved me so many times from so many things without a thought for himself. He's forgiven me countless times and he's stood by me when he had plenty of reason not to. I just wanted to be the brother to him that he had been to me. Again, I have failed him. I wonder when I will stop letting him down.

Cas had his hands full watching over Dean and looking out for me. He forced me to sleep and eat. Dean would need me when he woke up, he said.

"You mean _if_ …." I retorted snidely, failing to appreciate the friendship Cas was showing me. He was unaffected by my surliness.

" _If_ ," Cas conceded, "he wakes up, he _will_ need you."

So I slept for a few hours a night and I ate when food was put in front of me. Whenever the angel looked at me, it seemed that he thought I would break. Truthfully, I thought I would too. So when he suggested that I take some time away, I agreed but only if he promised to not leave Dean's side.

I gave in much too easily. I should have been stronger. I told myself that this errand was an important one. Dean's baby — the Impala — was left abandoned in Nebraska when Cas rescued us. I knew that if he woke up, he would want it back. The Impala is more than just a car to him: It's his connection to Dad. It's the only true home we've ever known. I reasoned that Dean would want me to do this. Maybe that's true, and maybe it's also true that getting away would rebuild my strength. I don't know. I only know that it had been only a few weeks before when I promised my brother I would never give up on him. Already, I was losing faith.

Cas, thanks to his newly repaired wings, flew me to Nebraska in only moments and promised to return immediately to Dean's side. That I felt closer to Dean in that car than I did sitting by his bed only increased my guilt. I drove the Impala listening to Dean's favorite music in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the memories of what happened that day out of my head.

When Dean summoned me to the abandoned restaurant where he was commiserating with Death, it proved how far off the rails he'd gone. It took my breath away when I realized that Dean planned to kill me. This was the brother who sold his soul to save me. He allowed an angel to possess me to keep me alive. This brother put his life on the line for me time and again. That he was willing to let me die meant he had given up all hope. Death convinced him that killing me was the only way to save the world from his murderous curse because I would _never_ stop trying to save him.

Death wasn't wrong.

The moment Dean accepted the scythe from the horseman, I was hit with the crushing realization that I couldn't save my brother. I wasn't afraid to die. I would have been more than willing to give my life for Dean. But my dying wouldn't have saved him and it terrified me what he would become if he killed me.

Even as I braced myself for the fatal blow from the brother I could barely recognize, I believed that the real Dean was still there. If I couldn't reach him, I knew one person who could. So I laid pictures of our mother before him, hoping beyond all reason that he would still see the good in himself.

"One day when you find your way back, let these be your guide," I told Dean. Then I closed my eyes as Dean lifted the weapon. I never expected for Dean to do what he did next. I don't think my brother ever made a greater sacrifice for me than he did when he swung that blade over my head towards Death.

As I rush into the bunker, memories of those moments with Death still linger. I worry about how much of my brother still remains. As soon as I see him, my fears are allayed. Though he looks lost and confused and so afraid, I can see something I haven't seen in Dean for a long time. I know that the Mark is truly gone from him and my brother is back. And he's alive. Whatever he has to deal with now, he will not be alone.

When I pull him into a hug, he's clutches me. I sense something is wrong, so I hold on to him until, without warning, he lets go of me and falls to the floor in agony. I catch him before he hits and slide him down gently. He's unaware that I'm even there.

"What's happening to him?" I cry out to Cas, terrified that still may die.

Cas kneels and lays his hand across Dean's head. "He's having another vision. He's been having them since he work up."

"Can't you do something?"

"I'm sorry," Cas shakes his head. "He has to go through this to heal."

With nothing else to do, I simply hold him until his eyes open a few moments later. He's distressed when he tells me he's sorry. With my own visions from a few years before as my only guide, I assume he's seeing the future. I tell him it's all going to be okay. It doesn't occur to me that he's seeing the past until he jolts up, more disturbed than before.

"Did I kill Death?" his anxious voice asks.

Cas moves to pull him up and I take his lead because I don't understand what's happening to Dean. We help him to a chair, and it scares me how my stubborn big brother is much too willing to let us help.

"Sam, did I kill Death?" he asks, still clutching my arm.

"Don't you remember?" I'll never forget that moment. How could he?

"You did not kill Death," Cas answers because I can't seem to form the words. Dean pulls his eyes from me and looks to our friend.

"I saw myself swing the scythe at him."

"Tell him," Cas commands me. "He's having trouble remembering. He needs to hear this from you."

I nod as Dean draws his anxious eyes back to me. "Death gave you the scythe to kill me, but you couldn't do it." My eyes burn as I again remember the emotional conversation. "You couldn't do it," I repeat, because it's important that he remember that he saved me again.

"Death threatened to do it if you didn't," I continue, noticing that Dean is nodding. He seems to remember this part.

"I know. I …," he starts, emotion swelling in his eyes. He pinches his lips together while he tries to find his voice. "I didn't want to .… I couldn't …."

"That's right," I assure him. "But more than that, you couldn't let Death kill me. You swung the blade past me and toward Death. But he disappeared before the blade struck. You did not kill him."

"Okay," he says, releasing a deep breath. "Okay." It's obvious that he's thinking what we all thought. What a hell of a mess we would be in if he had actually killed Death. It was small comfort because, according to Cas, Death is now gunning for my brother.

Dean has many more questions, but Cas refuses to answer more until he eats — until we both eat.

"What are you?" Dean bites. "My mother?"

"If that's what you need me to be, then yes," Cas answers, unaffected by Dean's sarcasm. "I'm here to take care of you, and I am ready to do whatever it takes to do that."

Dean's mouths hangs open for a moment, but his only response is to look away. Cas' protective attitude is nothing new to me. He's been on my case to sleep and eat and generally take care of myself since we brought Dean home. I've come to appreciate it and appreciate him for the effort. So I decide to back him up. "He's right, Dean. You need to take care of yourself so we can get through this."

He's still quiet, but he doesn't protest. Cas leaves to get food and is back in an amazingly short amount of time with every kind of food imaginable. I can't help but smile as he announces the menu, laying each dish on the table for Dean and me to choose.

"I have a cheeseburger with extra bacon, a turkey sandwich, a beef burrito, and chicken noodle soup. A cobb salad," he says with a glance towards me. "And pie," he finishes, looking expectantly at Dean. "Apple and cherry."

Dean surprises us both when he chooses the turkey sandwich instead of the hamburger. Cas pushes the apple pie toward him as well and waits for him to start eating.

"Geez," Dean mutters at all the attention and takes a bite of the sandwich. "Beer?"

"Water for now," Cas says. "Beer after you eat."

Dean sighs again but he doesn't complain. He practically inhales the sandwich, realizing how hungry he is. Cas used his power while Dean was in a coma to keep him alive without food or water. Now that he is awake, he needs the real thing.

Cas brightens as Dean reaches for the pie. "One question," the angel allows as a reward.

"Was the Darkness released?" he asks so quickly, I know that it must have been on his mind since the beginning.

"No," Cas says without further comment.

Dean stops chewing waiting for an explanation, which doesn't come. After swallowing, he prods. "Why not? Death said that if the Mark was removed, it would be released. Was he lying."

"No."

I watch Cas' reaction as Dean's irritation flares. I almost wonder if this is what Cas wants to see — a little of the cantankerous Dean. As a hint of a smile crosses his lips, I find that I feel the same way.

"Dammit, Cas. I've been out of it forever," he grumbles. "I need to know what happened."

"Dean, I promise I will not lie to you. I'll always tell you the truth about what happened, but I won't tell you everything at once. It would be too much for you to handle."

"I can handle it just fine," Dean barks back.

Cas surveys Dean for a long moment, apparently trying to decide what and how much to tell him. "Okay. The high points: Sam almost dies trying to close the gates of hell. You talk him out of it, but a little too late. He's too injured to survive. You find a … a…," Cas pauses to search for the right word. "… an unconventional way of saving him, which in turn angers him when he finds out, but not before there is a great loss, in which both of you blame yourselves. So your brother isn't talking to you and you feel guilty so you find a way to thoroughly screw yourself over."

I sink as Cas describes our story in such an abbreviated way. I see where he's going because I can remember every event of how we all got to this point. I don't know how much Dean remembers, but clearly he hasn't forgotten how he got the Mark in the first place. He's looking down at his abandoned pie as if he's trying to decide whether to lash out at Cas for not getting to the point. Instead, he just listens. He seems to think the point is how he screws up. I know that's not what Cas is trying to say. I start to interrupt, but Cas holds up a hand, not allowing me to interject.

"In your remorse, you think that all of the bad in the world is your fault, because that's what you do. You take on blame that is not yours. So you accept a curse on yourself get rid of the evil — or at least the worst of it," Cas continues. "And you do. You save the world again. All while protecting Sam. You always find a way to protect your brother."

"Cas …." Dean's unsteady voice interrupts. "I remember all of this. Just get to the point, okay?"

"The point is that you always protect Sam. You've considered it your mission in life," the angel continues, ignoring Dean's displeasure.

"First of all, Sam looks out for me, too," he says softly. I raise my head, not really expecting him to say that because our relationship had been tense during the months before the Mark was removed. Actually, it had been tense more often than not for a couple of years.

"Secondly, what does this have to do with the Darkness and how I got the Mark removed and whether or not I killed Death."

"Everything," Cas responds. "Sam has noticed, and I have noticed, how far you will go to protect to him. You would do anything. You _have_ done just about everything. Everyone — angels, demons, monsters and even God himself — knows to what lengths you two will go for each other."

My eyes are fixed on my hands that are resting on the table. If I didn't know where Cas is headed before, I am sure now. I fought so hard for find a cure for my brother that we now faced a terrible loss and some horrible consequences. Cas knows I am afraid of how Dean will react to that when he learns the truth. Dean catches on as well.

I look up to see Dean still staring at Cas as a moment of revelation hits him.

"Sam," he says calmly, his eyes still fixed on the angel. Slowly his head turns toward me. "What did you do?"


	4. Chapter 4

AN: What did Sam do? It might not be all that shocking for the reader, but Dean is going to have a tough time in this chapter. You'll start to see how difficult having the Mark removed will be for him. As always, thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Dean Unraveled**

Cas is taking for - friggin – ever to get to the point. I simply want to know if the world as we know it still exists. Did the Darkness — whatever the hell _that_ is — take over because the Mark was removed? Or does someone else now carry the Mark?

Knowing Cas as I do, I realize he's leading up to something. Then he goes on and on about how I've always saved Sam. What else was I supposed to do? He's my little brother, and it's my job to protect him — even if he is a grown man who can take care of himself. Since the day that Dad put him in my arms and sent me out of our burning house, I knew that I had to keep him safe. Until the Mark infected me, I always had.

The memory that I tried to kill Sam still weighs on me. Nothing else Cas could say would come close to being as painful as that. As Cas is rambling on, I see Sam out of the corner of my eye, looking down like he has a reason to be ashamed. And it hits me like a bolt. Whatever brought us to where we are now was Sam's doing.

Though I'm not sure I want an answer, I ask anyway. "Sam, what did you do?"

I can think of only one thing that would be worse than me trying to kill him. Cas' instructions to Sam don't make me feel any better.

"Details can come later," Cas tells him.

Sam nods, but he doesn't speak right away, and his silence is killing me. I glance at his arm, but it's covered by his shirt sleeve, so I have to ask. I realize I'm holding my breath until he answers.

"Do you have the Mark now?"

"What?" His eyes crinkle in surprise. "No, of course not."

It's not that I don't believe him, but I have to be sure. I stare at his arms until he pulls up his sleeves to prove it to me. Only then do I breathe again because Sam having the curse that nearly destroyed me _would_ have been more than I can handle. It doesn't matter what he says now — as long as he's safe. We'll deal with whatever it is.

"So …?" I prod after his continued silence.

"I made a deal with Rowena to save you."

Okay, that's bad. I scrub my hand over my face, not sure whether to be relieved that he doesn't have the Mark or pissed that he trusted the wicked witch herself.

"Sam …," I start, but the anger is just not there. I don't have enough in me to be pissed at Sam, or anyone else. "How did she screw you over?" I ask, because there was no way for a good outcome to Sam making a deal with the King of Hell's mother.

Sam is staring at me as if he expects me to yell at him or something. "You're not mad?" He seems concerned that I would be and, at the same time, concerned that I'm not.

"I think I would be if I had any energy at all," I admit.

His shoulder's slump at my comment, but I didn't intend for it to hurt. I realize Cas is right about one thing: I'm not ready to face everything at the moment. I just feel numb, and whatever Sam did with Rowena disappoints me, even scares me. But that's all the emotion I can muster.

"You know she tried to kill me," I point out. "Why in the hell would she want to save me?'

"She agreed to translate the Book of the Damned to find a cure if I killed Crowley," he tells me, still looking at his hands rather than me.

"You burned the Book of the Damned," I say. At least I thought he did. I'm pretty sure I told him to destroy it because of the connection I felt with it. I saw something burn. He raises his eyes and looks at me like I've just grown two heads.

"No, Dean. You found out that I kept it."

"So I'm guessing we've already had this discussion?" I assume that because he's not even trying to defend himself now.

"If by discussion you mean you took my head off, then yeah," he says, his furrowed brow molded in place now.

I shrug because I don't remember, but I decide to table that discussion. I'm sure I would have been pissed and with Mark fueling my anger, that couldn't have been good conversation. But right now, all I detect is a faint feeling in pit of my stomach that there's something else I should remember.

"What about Crowley? Did you kill him?" I'm strangely mixed on this, and I remember Cain telling me I would be. Crowley is a demon — the worst of the demons, but we had sort of an understanding. Yet it wasn't that long ago that killing Crowley would have been a no-brainer.

"I tried to," Sam admits, "but he was stronger. All I did was piss him off."

"Great," I mutter, knowing that a pissed off Crowley was not a good thing. But I've threatened to off him a few times, so he'd probably get over it. "So Rowena backed out? You're off the hook?"

"She made a new deal."

"Sam," I groan. I'm frustrated and my headache has reached a piercing level and my heart is pounding in my chest. And I don't even know why I feel this sense of panic. We've both made deals with the devil — or at least our fair share of demons. "Please just spit it out."

"Sam agreed to let her keep the Book of the Damned," Cas steps in. "Once she cast the spell to remove the Mark, she would have had her freedom and the most malicious collection of spells at her disposal."

Cas pauses, as if that's not enough bad news and decides to go full throttle. "Of course, any threat from her would have paled in comparison to the evil that preceded time descending upon the Earth."

It seems Sam is speechless at the moment. And I'm just confused. I think Cas is trying to say that Rowena is bad but the Darkness would have been worse. I do remember what Death told me about the Darkness. It was why he could convince me to kill Sam in the first place. I plunge my fingers in my eyes in an effort to stop the headache that is escalating by the second. The one time I don't press for more answers, Cas continues on his own.

"Of course, Sam didn't know about the Darkness. Nor did I."

I don't want know anymore. If I don't have Mark and Sam's okay and even Cas is okay, maybe I shouldn't care about what happened. What's done is done.

But Sam has suddenly found his voice. "I was desperate, Dean."

"Yeah," I mumble. I guess he was. It seems that I remember asking him to stop trying to find a cure. Pleading with him to let me live with the consequences. Of course he didn't listen.

Damn, those puppy dog eyes on my brother. Begging for me to understand why he did what he did. So I suck in a breath and steel myself to listen to he rest of the story.

"So Rowena removed the Mark?" I presume, looking first to Sam and then to Cas.

"No," Cas jumps in.

I groan as I bury my head in my hands. My brain is muddled and I am no closer to figuring out what happened. "Simple words, man," I appeal to Cas. "Just use simple words."

"Rowena was set to cast the spell that would have removed the Mark and released The Darkness. God couldn't allow that to happen, so he intervened."

Wait. What? I couldn't have heard that right. I pry my eyes open again to look at Cas. "God? _The_ God intervened?"

"Yes." the angel tilts his head and stares at me, looking as if he's making a mistake telling me the whole story now. What was it that he said about being more than I could handle? I try to rub the confusion away by sweeping my fingers across my forehead. Or maybe I'm just trying to ease the pain in my head. I'm about to call it a day and get lost in a bottle of whiskey.

Yet the angel who was reluctant to tell me any of this can't seem to stop talking now. Cas explains how God stopped the spell and called him to Heaven to speak to Joshua, who gave Cas the power to remove the Mark.

Apparently the solution to this nightmare all along was a box made from the tree of good and evil. Cas was supposed to have killed Rowena, but she had absorbed too much power from the Book of the Damned. She escaped and is now becoming a vicious force that even the angels are having trouble defeating her.

"Think Abbadon strong," Cas suggests. "Perhaps eventually even Lucifer strong. Since she has the Book of the Damned and the codex, her power could have no limits."

"What codex," I ask, almost automatically. I am starting to feel somewhat indifferent — and that concerns me more than Cas telling me the world is in danger again. Thanks to Sam's deal, Rowena is fast becoming the most dangerous monster we've dealt with since Lucifer. Just another day at the office.

I get lost in my thoughts for a moment when I realize Sam and Cas are gaping at me.

"What?" I wonder, looking between the two.

"You don't remember the codex?" Sam asks with more concern than I believe is necessary. My memory loss has been well-discussed since I woke up. If I didn't remember that he kept the Book of the Damned, how would I remember finding the thing that translates it?

"Should I?"

Cas shoots a uneasy look to Sam. They've been doing that all day — giving each other looks because they're worried about me. But this look was different. It seems that Cas is worried about Sam, not me.

I try to determine if I should be troubled when I cry out from another sharp pain shooting through my head as another vision hits. I see Sam nearly bleeding himself dry to gain entry into some kind of safe. To open, it needs legacy blood from a Man of Letters. Sam is giving it so much blood, he's on the verge of passing out. I push him aside so I can give it some of mine. And it works. The safe pops open. From it, I pull a book that turns out to be the codex. My vision jumps to where I discover Sam had enlisted Charlie's help to decipher the codex, which would allow them access to the Book of the Damned. I'm giving him hell for that because he put her in too much danger.

Then I see Charlie dead.

My chest tightens, hoping that what I just saw was not a memory. _Please, please just let it be a nightmare._ When the vision ends, I find myself sprawled out on the floor from the intensity of what I just saw. My two guardians hovering over me. I look at Sam and simply say "Charlie."

The look on his face tells me that it was real, and the memory I have of who was responsible is just as real. I can feel myself start to unravel from the inside out. I can't face what happened, and I can't face Sam. I have just enough energy to push him away.

He doesn't try to stop me as I walk away. The bunker is full of hide away places and empty rooms. I stumble into one of them and sink to the floor. Cas was right. I shouldn't have demanded answers. I would give anything to forget about Charlie. Anything to not blame Sam. Anything for it to have been me instead of her. With no strength left in me, a torrent of emotions overwhelm me and I finally break down with sobs coming from me in waves. I don't think I've ever cried like that in my life, even as a child. I'm glad I am alone.

I'm hit with a barrage of images of the people I killed when I bore the Mark. I'm saturated with pictures of their bloody faces and vacant eyes. I see the weapons of my rampage — knives, guns, my own bloodied fist, an angel blade that lands only inches from Cas, and an ancient scythe that whips much to close to my brother's head. And I see Charlie's body burning on a pyre. The voice I hear in my mind is Sam's.

" _What was I supposed to do. Just watch you die?"_

" _The Mark isn't going to kill me."_

" _Maybe not. But when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore. Dean, you're all I've got."_

I see myself looking in the mirror of a shabby motel room, realizing how out of control I was. I caused Ruby's death. And Cas just let me keep beating him up without fighting back. As their faces stare back at me, I know there is no coming back from what I had become.

Believing that only one thing could end it, I summon Death. Then I realize that the punishment for accepting this curse wasn't my death. It was living for an eternity with the guilt and shame of what I had done. And living forever with my brother's blood on my hands. Cain knew it would end this way.

" _It's called the Mark of Cain for a reason. … Then would come the murder you would never survive. The one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me. Your brother Sam."_

I double over onto the floor, squeezing my head trying to make disappear the memories that threaten suffocate me. It occurs to me that because I no longer carry the Mark, I am no longer immortal. I can die. My breath catches at the thought.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I'm sitting in a darkened room running through a list of reasons it would be better if I were dead. The pain in my chest is distracting me from my piercing headache. I almost don't notice the nausea building. Each new memory tortures me. My heart is pounding and I can barely breathe. Yet my mind keeps clicking off the reasons why I need to make it all stop.

Number one: the pain — physical and emotional — would go away. At least I think so. It's quite possible I would end up in hell for all the things I did while I had the Mark. I push those thoughts away as I come to number two: My brother would be better off. He's spent the last year trying to save me. And to what end? Charlie's death? Me becoming completely unhinged? Guilt radiates from Sam. And the worry I see in his face is even worse. He looks like he has been turned inside out. And it's all because of me.

I realize I don't need a number three.

I push myself off the floor to find a weapon of some kind. I don't care what — a knife, a gun, a freakin' candlestick would do the job. I turn on a light and begin to search for a weapon when I stop cold. I realize what it would do to Sam if I end it this way. After everything he did for me — after all that has happened — I can't do that to him. Not now.

I have to find the strength to go on for just a little longer. I turn away from the knife I spot across the room and I find Cas standing in front of me. Damned angels. Appearing without warning. He touches my forehead with just two of his fingers — and the room goes black.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: This is a shorter chapter than normal. I spent much too longer tweaking it so I decided to just post it so I can move on. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

 **The Weight**

This is all going so badly. The hope I felt with Dean first awoke is gone now. I have already failed in the task of eliminating Rowena. If I fail at saving these brothers, I do not know how I would go on.

Though watching after the Winchesters is not a burden — never a burden — I still feel the weight of how to protect both of them. Keeping them safe from the outside threats is difficult enough considering the powerful entities that would like to see them dead. Death. Crowley. Rowena. They all have their own agendas and means to destroy the brothers.

Yet those dangers can't compare to what's going inside of them. Even if I can protect them from these powerful forces, each brother could be lost to his own inner battles.

Sam is so distraught that he has turned to alcohol for consolation. I understand his reaction. Though we both knew that Dean was struggling with memory loss, neither of us had any idea that he did not remember what happened to Charlie. Sam hoped that Dean had forgiven him for his part in her death when, in reality, he had simply forgotten.

I can sense the immense shame pouring from Sam, yet his shame pales in comparison to the troubling feelings I sense from Dean. As I feared, all of these memories have been too much for him. I should have known better than to reveal so much to him at once. He was growing more and more frustrated by the sketchy information, I thought it would be more helpful if we laid it all out for him. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The memory loss was a defense mechanism that I destroyed by giving him too many details at once. The rush of painful memories he is experiencing is enough to cripple anyone. I know exactly what he is contemplating and I need to stop it. So I leave Sam to his whiskey.

I need only to follow the feelings of overwhelming despair I sense from Dean to find him. When I do, he's curled up on the floor fighting intense flashbacks. My first instinct was to intervene immediately and make them go away, but I am momentarily paralyzed with the fear that I would do the wrong thing — again.

But as he stands to find a weapon to use on himself, I have no time to consider my options. I must act quickly. I could erased the memory of Charlie from mind, but he would simply go through the same emotions again when he remembers. And he would eventually remember. So I make him sleep. It is only a stopgap measure and it could bring about more nightmares, but it is the best I can do at the moment.

As I touch Dean, he falls to the floor in front of me, helpless against my power. But he trusts me, and I hope he will understand why I have chosen to do this to him. I pick him up and carry him to a couch in the study. I can't bring myself to put him back in his room where I watched him suffer for the past two months.

When I enter the study, Sam is still nursing a bourbon. He bolts up, distressed at the sight of Dean unconscious again. "What happened?"

"He's fine," I say as I put Dean on the couch. And that's only half true. Physically, he is fine. Mentally, he's anything but.

"Then why is he out?" he asks, kneeling by his brother. He feels for a pulse and looks for any sign that he could be back in his coma.

"I made him sleep."

"Why?" Sam is now looking at me, his hand resting on Dean's chest. Though his tone is even, his anxious eyes bore through me.

"He was overstimulated," I say, my efforts to explain are obviously falling short.

"He was what?" Sam asks, an edge to his voice. "What did you do to him?"

I kneel by Sam as a sign that I'm trying to watch after them both. I look from Sam's devastated face to Dean's unconscious one and back to the younger brother. "He couldn't take it. All the information — the news about Charlie. It was too much. He was having an anxiety attack."

"That's not like Dean," Sam accuses. "He's never had a panic attack in his life."

"Dean is not like Dean," I fire back, perhaps with more forcefulness than I intend. I pause for a moment to collect myself. Truthfully, I'm as worried about Dean as Sam is. I am afraid for both of the Winchester brothers because I know that if one doesn't survive this, nor will the other. In an intentionally more gentle voice, I continue, "You need to understand Dean may never be just like he was."

"What?" Sam pales at the implication of what that means.

I pause to consider how to explain to Sam what's happening in Dean's soul. "It's like your wall that protected you from your memories of hell. Over the years, Dean built a barrier to protect himself from the things that were painful for him. Since he was a child, he pushed down the worst memories down deep inside. When the Mark was removed, that barrier was ripped apart. All those emotions — fear, guilt, sorrow — are all flooding into his psyche."

Sam's slackens at the thought. He understands better than anyone how much Dean pushed down over the years.

"Right now, he's overwhelmed, Sam. He's scared. He's worried about you and he's grieving for Charlie. And he's knows there's more we're not telling him. He doesn't have the strength to face it all at once."

Sam moves from his knees and sinks into a sitting position on the floor and wipes a hand through his hair. "Does he blame me? For Charlie?"

The younger Winchester certainly blamed himself. And the Dean with the Mark blamed him. This Dean? Even I'm not sure. Too many emotions were swirling around Dean's head for me to know. What I do know is that Sam has taken too much of the blame on himself.

"Her death is not your fault, you know," I remind him.

"I pushed her into this," he says with a voice heavy with regret. "She had reservations about the Book of the Damned. So did you. I wouldn't listen."

"You wanted to save Dean."

"I should have found another way," he insists. "I shouldn't have put Charlie in danger. Her death _is_ my fault."

I consider his argument, remembering how he begged all of us to help. Despite my reservations, I was a willing accomplice. "It's not all on you. It's on me, too. You left me to protect her and I failed. But mostly, the blame falls on the Stynes. They killed her. Not you."

Sam shakes his head, refusing to look at me.

"And it's a little bit on Charlie," I say, though it is painful. That comment gets his attention. His head snaps up and his eyes flash in anger.

"She was innocent," he retorts.

"Yes," I agree, "but she chose to leave the safety of that warehouse. She knew the dangers and she went anyway. She was a strong woman who made her own decisions. Nothing you or I could say would have changed that. You didn't force her to help. I couldn't force her to stay. That's who she was. She reminds me a lot of two brothers I know."

The fury in his eyes ease though his brow is still knotted with worry as he turns his attention back to his brother. "It'll just take some time, right? For Dean to get better?"

"I hope so, Sam. But it will be a difficult journey." Remembering how troublesome it was for both of us when Dean was a demon and considering how he was fast becoming one again because of the Mark, I remind Sam of one consolation — as small as it is.

"If he doesn't make it, at least he'll die human."


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: I hope you are still enjoying this story. Some parts of it are heavy reading, but I hope the pay off will be worth it! Since there are two Winchester brothers, this chapter will have two perspectives. Thanks for reading and reviews are always much appreciated!_

* * *

 _ **Growing up Winchester**_

Again, I am blinking against a light that is too bright for my eyes. I am lucid enough to realize I am waking from a deep sleep. And I remember the dreams. Not necessarily pleasant dreams, but not really nightmares. They were from events in my life from a point of view other than mine own. I felt like I had been viewing myself as a third person — like a movie playing in my head. And all of it was my life — and Sam's.

I saw every significant moment in my relationship with my brother — the good and the bad. I saw Dad hand a 6-month old Sammy to me so I could save him from our burning house. I was terrified, but I knew I had to get him out of that house. It was the first time I pushed down what I was feeling so I could do what I had to do. Watching it replay in my dreams, I realized just how much of a child I was — not even five years old and willing accepting the responsibility for my little brother.

I saw myself as an eight year old doing the best I could to comfort my frightened brother during a storm. Dad, of course, was out on a hunt. It was one of the first times he left me alone to care for Sam. Though he was the same age I was when the yellow-eyed demon claimed our Mom, I still viewed Sammy as my baby brother. I felt so much older than I was — already burdened with the truth that bad things existed in the night and it was on me to keep my brother safe when Dad wasn't around.

I witnessed years of me trying to watch after Sam. And the times when he had to fend for himself while Dad and I were hunting. In later years, he would sometimes mention how lonely he was as a kid, but I never realized how much so. He didn't eat enough. He didn't sleep enough. He just worried about us and how he would be completely alone if we didn't come back. It's no wonder he ran away so often.

The excitement he felt when Dad finally let him start hunting with us faded quickly. It was a bloody, violent, grueling job for which we got little appreciation from those we saved or even from Dad.

When Sam was about 16, he tried to talk to me about wanting to go to college. I blew him off, telling him people like us didn't get to do college. This was our life and I believed that the sooner he accepted that, the better off he would be. But I was projecting my own experiences and wishes onto Sam. I embraced this life when I was 16, deciding to do whatever it took to be good at it. And the best hunter I had ever known was my father, so I wanted to be like him. I believed that Sam should want the same thing.

Seeing those scenes play out, I remember how desperate I was to keep what we had left of our family together, and Sam going off to find a normal life would have destroyed that. But Sam still dreamed and planned. He argued with Dad constantly, and I more and more acted as a buffer between the two until the day he left for Stanford.

That day had been burned into my memory, and I would have sworn I remembered every moment of it. But my dream revealed a new perspective. I remember Dad just walking away when Sam left. Dad had never showed me his tears, but my dream did.

What I saw as a defiant Sam leaving Dad — leaving me — for his own life turned into a frightened boy determined to make his way when his father told him to "never come back."

While I remember the rejection every time I tried to get in touch with him for his first year at Stanford, the dream showed me a different story. Each time I called him, I tried to drag him back into the life that he so desperately wanted to leave. If I had only accepted his desire to follow his dreams, I might not have lost him for those years.

I acted so cocky when I went to Sam after Dad disappeared. I didn't need the neutral view to know that was a lie. I had been afraid of losing everyone I loved. Dad was gone. I hadn't seen Bobby since in a few years. So I went to Sam not so much because I needed help finding Dad. I just needed him.

After I dropped him off at his apartment that night, something tugged at me. I thought maybe it was my fear of losing my brother again, so I tried to push it back. But I couldn't let it go. When I drove back to Sam's apartment, flames and smoke were pouring from the window. I had only one thought when I saw Jessica burning on that ceiling — to save Sam. I knew we'd have a hell of a hunt on our hands after that.

For the next 10 years, I saw Sam die and live again. I saw every time I saved him and every time he saved me. I witnessed how he reacted every time I died — and I had died a lot. I saw the light leave his eyes and I witnessed his efforts to keep going without me. The one time he actually found a way past that grief and moved on, I berated him for it. That was and will always be my biggest failure in a long list of ways that I had failed my brother.

I was still edgy from spending a year in purgatory fighting for my life every minute of the day, and I guess I was still struggling to feel normal again. With that year nothing more than a bad memory, I could see what that year was like for my brother. He drove the Impala without a destination — without a purpose.

Neither of us could put into words what we had been through or what we were feeling, so we didn't know how to close the divide between us.

And later when Sam decided to keep hunting rather than go back to his girl in Texas, I thought it was more because of the unfinished business we had and the odd behavior from Cas. Though that was true, the dream showed me so much more was behind Sam's decision. He wanted to heal the rift between us as much as I did. Yet too much of his decision was that he didn't want to let me down by walking away. I laid so much blame and guilt on his shoulders, he chose this thankless life of endlessly hunting down the evil instead of trying to find the happiness he deserved.

After years of hoping he would see an end to the life of a hunter, Sam finally embraced it. When that happened, I was grateful beyond belief. Watching it happen all over again in the dream, I felt ashamed.

Even as I watched this movie in my head, I knew atrocities came next: The trials to close hell. Sam nearly sacrificing himself and me letting an angel possess him to save him. And Sam uttering the most excruciating words he said to me — we weren't brothers. When he said it, I believed he meant it. But he began to soften in time, especially after he saw how the Mark was beginning to change me. With the prospect of me being in danger, he began to be my brother again. He kept struggling to save me even as the Mark was making me into something that was evil and vile and unstoppable.

And then I saw Charlie die, and Sam's reaction to her death. I hadn't noticed it in the moment because I had been so consumed with my own pain and anger. And like a motion picture, I saw Sam's face when I said I wished it had been him instead of her. I don't know how I — with or without the Mark of Cain — could have said that to my brother.

I wanted this dream to end because looking at your own life with such brutal clarity is never an easy thing. It was like watching my life in high definition. Nothing was hidden from me. And it wasn't pretty.

Yet through it all, I saw Sam fighting for me until the end. Even as I held Death scythe ready to swing a fatal blow, he was still fighting for me.

I awake from this dream grieving for Charlie and for Sam's lost childhood. I'm disappointed that Sam made a call that cost us another person that we cared about. I know without a doubt, my life was not worth more than hers. I'm angry at my brother and the yellow-eyed demon that started it all. I'm angry at Lucifer, who tried to use my brother to take over the world. I'm angry at Dad, who left me to be a parent to my brother when I didn't know how.

Most of all, I'm angry at myself. As much as I blame Sam for what has happened, I blame myself more.

Now I open my eyes still not sure than I'm ready to face my brother.

xxxxxxXxxxxx

Sam's voice is the first thing I hear when I open my eyes.

"Bad dreams?" He sounds worried. I sit up as he hands me a glass of whiskey. He continues when I don't answer. "You have tears on your face."

I hadn't noticed, but I'm not surprised. I take the hand not holding the drink to wipe my face as I try to explain about the dream. "Not bad really. Just …." Just what? Emotional? He can see that. "… revealing," I say, mostly because I don't know how to say what I really want to tell him. That I'm sorry I held him back all those years.

He only nods. I down the drink and set the glass on the table. "You've been watching me?" It's not an accusation. I suppose after everything that's happened, I should expect to lose my right to privacy.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay. I didn't want you to be alone."

I accept his answer because the truth is, I probably shouldn't be alone. "How long was I out?"

"About two hours."

"Huh. It felt like years."

"That bad?" he asks as he sits across from me. He's a brave man, because I can tell he's afraid of what I might say to him — what I might think of him. Charlie's death still weighs on him, and he has every reason to believe that I think he is responsible after the things I've said. He's still willing to face me.

He doesn't try to avoid eye contact anymore, as he did when Cas told me what happened. I think about what to say to him now. I didn't mean for it to be cutting or brutal. It was just a statement of fact.

"I didn't deserve to be saved, Sam."

xxxxxXxxxxx

I had been watching Dean since Cas brought him in — asleep again. Not in a coma. Just asleep. That's what I kept telling myself. He wasn't screaming. He wasn't thrashing about. Then tears began trickling down his temple.

So I sat and watched, wondering what he could be dreaming this time. Probably he was dreaming about Charlie. I dreamt about her too, and I cried, too. She was our sister — our family. And I badgered her into helping Dean.

Part of me believed that she wanted to help Dean as much as I did. Part of me understood what I asked of her was too much. More than anything, I wish Charlie was alive now. Dean might never forgive me for putting Charlie in harm's way, yet I would never say that I regret trying to save him. I just wish I had made better choices along the way.

Finally, Dean starts to stir. I pour him a shot of whiskey and wait for him to fully awaken. His face is still wet from his tears when he sits up. His dream has been revealing, he says. I don't know what that means, and I'm not ready to ask.

But I am ready to hear his anger, his disappointment. I deserve it. I let Charlie down, and I let him down. He stuns me by his comment. "I didn't deserve to be saved, Sam."

"What?" The composure I was determined to keep in place evaporates. "Why would you say that? Of course you deserved to be saved. You sure as hell didn't deserve what was happening to you."

"The cost was too high, Sammy." He closes his eyes, trying to suppress the building sadness that washes over him. With the Mark, Dean was filled with anger. Now he just seems broken.

"I would do it again," I tell him.

"Don't you regret any of it?" he asks, and I know he's thinking about Charlie.

"Yes, I do," I answer quickly, and then I pause, because I'm afraid I'll get emotional again. I need to be strong now. Despite how disappointed Dean may be in me, I can see he's worried about me as well. I have to be able to at least remove that from his shoulders. I push back my feelings and press on. "I have so many regrets about all of this. I regret more than anything what happened to Charlie. I should have protected her. I would take her place in a second."

Dean, who had been looking at me, shakes his head and looks away when I say that. I try not to interpret what that means but I can't help but wonder if he wishes also that I had died instead of her. I have too much to say to him so I don't want to open that box. "I regret lying to you. I should have been honest about all of it, I was just afraid you would find a way to stop me."

"I probably would have," he admits.

"I will never regret," I say, punctuating each word, "trying to do everything in my power to save you."

"Why?" he asks, and he seems sincerely baffled that I would try so hard. "You were ready to let me go before. Why not this time?"

It seems that he's still holding on to what I said to him after I learned that he allowed the angel Gadreel to possess me. If the situation had been reversed, I wouldn't have done the same thing. I meant that I wouldn't have allowed an angel to possess him. I think he heard me say I wouldn't want to save him. In my anger, I let that belief hang between us, not denying it.

In the past year I've learned that when faced with losing my brother, I would do anything — _anything_ — to save him. The words I said to him in anger were completely untrue. But there is one difference between what he did for me and what I did for him. It was something that he told me years before.

"You said once that we keep each other human," I offer as a partial explanation. "The Mark was taking away your humanity."

He starts to respond but clamps his mouth shut, speechless. I realize that's only half true and wholly smug of me to say. It makes me sound better than him, and I'm anything but.

"And I couldn't lose you, Dean."

"Sam," he says with a hand over his eyes as he's struggles to say something difficult. He finally lifts his head and looks at me. "You managed before. You found a way without me when I was in purgatory."

His comment knocks the breath out of me, and for the first time since he's been awake, I start to feel angry at him. "Are we back to that?" I ask, and I think I might sound indignant. "Do you really think I wanted you …? Do you think I've ever forgiven myself?"

"Look man, you did the right thing," he interrupts, distressed at my anger. "I know I gave you crap about not looking for me, but you were right. You found a way out. And I think maybe you tried so hard to save me from the Mark because I was so tough on you when I got back. But you were right to move on."

"Move on? Move on!" I'm more irate than I want to sound, but I can't seem to rein it in. "Do you think I could watch you disappear one minute and move on the next?" I brush my hand over my head trying to get control. It's not working.

"I thought you were dead!" I practically shout. "I thought I'd lost you and Cas and everybody else I cared about. I just didn't move on. I ran away. I fell apart. I drove your car because it was the only thing that kept me going. It worked until I hit that damned dog. Then I had to stop and face that I was completely alone."

So much for trying to keep my emotions in check. Dean is standing now, watching me break down completely. I feel so close to losing him again and he doesn't understand. Though my voice is unsteady, I keep talking.

"I was forced to stop, and I eventually found that maybe I didn't have to be alone. Amelia had lost someone, too. We both were just reaching out for something."

"Okay. I get it," he chokes out, the tears building in his yes. Still it bothers me that I have to explain this after I spent the past year trying to save him.

"I thought about you every day." I keep talking as if he hasn't said anything. I'm aware that I still sound harsh but all of this has been buried inside for a long time. Now that it's coming out, I can't stop it. "And then I almost lose you again because of the Godforsaken Mark on your arm. I could see you slipping away again. So don't dare say to me it was out of guilt that I wanted to save you."

"Sammy!" he shouts to get my attention. He immediately lowers his voice when he sees he has it. "I didn't mean it like that. I know it was hard on you, brother. I never meant that you tried to save me because you felt guilty. I know that you …." He pauses, and because I know him so well, I understand it's difficult for him to express his feelings about me or mine about him. I wait while he rephrases.

"I know why you wanted to save me. I just meant … you found your way even after all of that. I got myself into this mess — letting Cain pass on the Mark to me. It's on me. All of it. It would have been better for you and everybody else to just let me go."

"Is that what you would have done if it had been me? Let me go?" I shake my head because I know it's not true. "You would have done anything you could to save me." He sighs and looks away because even he can't deny it. "I've lost count of how many times you've saved me, Dean."

"You're my little brother," he answers quietly, as if that's supposed to explain why he can save me but I shouldn't save him.

"I know," I concede. "And you're my brother." We've had too many arguments over the years about why he feels it's his duty to protect me. And I've told him almost as many times that I want to protect him, too. I suppose he would say that responsibility goes back to the night our Mom died. But I believe he would have looked after me even if that awful night never happened. That's just who is he.

"You've done so much for me," I remind him. "I'm sure I'll never know all the sacrifices you've made. And I know that Dad did the best he could, but you were the one who was there for me. Every time I needed you, you were there."

"Don't," he mumbles, looking away again.

I ignore him because he needs to understand why I would go so far for him. "My whole life, you've done _anything_ to protect me. You sold your soul for me. Who does that?"

"Not the smartest thing I've ever done."

He smiles slightly, but it doesn't reach his eyes. His attempt at levity fades as I continue to list the things he's done for me. I tick off everything I can remember from childhood to saving me when Jessica died. I talk about Ruby and the demon blood and letting Lucifer out of his cage.

"I betrayed you and I made a mistake that almost destroyed the world, but you forgave me. You stood by me."

"Sam, stop," he pleads. I ignore him as my voice rises.

"You drove your freakin' car onto the apocalypse battlefield so I wouldn't die alone. I watched Lucifer use _my_ hands to nearly beat you to death. _You_ gave me the strength to fight him and jump into that hole. And when I came back without a soul, you fought to get it back. And when I did get it back, you forgave me for all the things I had done when I didn't have it. Dean, I'm the reason it didn't work out with Lisa, and you forgave me."

"That wasn't your fault," he insists.

"And what you did with the Mark wasn't yours."

"Sam …."

"You saved me time and time again, even when I didn't think I wanted to be saved. You never gave up on me. _Never_."

Dean's face darkens as if he's realized something. His eyes are full as he grips my shoulder. "You're right, Sammy. I would do anything to protect you. I would sell my soul again if I had to. If you had the Mark, I would've tried saved you no matter the consequences."

I think I may have won this argument until his lips pinch into a thin line to control his quivering chin. "But look at what we've lost — the people we've lost," he continues with the grim reminder of how our lives have unfolded. "The collateral damage is just too much."

Thinking back on all of the people who are gone now, I can see that he's not wrong. "So what are you saying?"

"We have to learn to let each other go."


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: The boys are struggling and Cas is doing his best to keep them steady. Can they find hope in the midst of such turmoil? Read to find out!_

* * *

 _ **Stone One**_

As an angel, I have witnessed humans in every possible context. Nothing can been hidden from angels – unless, of course, the human has been warded. Not many humans know they could or even should ward themselves against us.

I have seen humans commit wonderful and terrible acts. I've seen their intimate moments as clearly as their public displays. Humanity has actually changed very little during the past several millennia. The world in which they live certainly has changed, but the people who live in this world are virtually the same. They fight for their survival. They love. They hate. They fear and they are fearless. Some struggle with guilt, depression or anxiety. Some live very joyful lives. Some are greedy and selfish while others are kind and give much too much of themselves. They fight with their families, their friends, and their lovers. Sometimes they reconcile. Sometimes they don't.

These brothers before me have had many fights, verbal and physical. They sometimes have disagreed with each other on a core level. Occasionally, even I have wondered if they could bridge the gap between them. Yet, they always did. They always forgive each other. More importantly, they they always find a way to believe in each other.

During private moments between them, even when I've been present, I look away. I felt they always deserved that, perhaps more than others, because I am their friend as well as an angel.

Right now during this conversation, I can not look away. And it is one of the most painful interactions I have witnessed. I am torn between wanting to walk away and wanting to protect then. At the moment, I am hidden from their view, and I feel guilty about that. But it is necessary, for my role has their guardian has taken a higher precedence than my role as their friend.

Both are radiating a great amount of distress and I fear both are near their breaking points. So I watch, ready to intervene if I must. At one point, I think I may have to when Dean says they need to learn to let each other go.

Sam pales considerably, momentarily at a loss for words. When he does speak, his voice quivers as if his greatest fear has finally come true. "We're still here because we've never given up on each other."

"And I'm not giving up on you, now." Dean's reply is quick, but it doesn't quite alleviate his younger brother's despair. The older brother looks equally anguished, as if the thought of following through with his own suggestion leaves the taste of fear in his mouth.

I watch, uncomfortable not only because I am invading their privacy but also because I sense a measure of defeat in both brothers as Dean tries to explain that too many have been lost so they can be saved. He mentions their father, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, Kevin and Charlie. Sam nods in understanding. Dean assures him that he doesn't mean now, but the time will come when one of them will be in mortal danger again. They should consider the price to be saved.

Eventually they come to an uneasy agreement. When the time comes, they'll let go. The question that remains unanswered is how they will know when the time is right. Sam seems to have more to say, but he walks away. He needs some space to process.

Dean drops into a chair with a thud, covering his face with his hands. After a few moments, he rubs the back of his hand across his moist cheeks. Normally, he would chide me about personal space or perhaps encourage me to make a little noise as I enter the room. This time, he just stares at me, his eyes begging me to help him.

"Are you alright?" I ask as I pull up a chair across from him. Of course I already know the answer, but I hope he will open up without too much pressure from me.

"You made me sleep," he says, and I confirm that I did.

"You were having some difficulty and you needed to take a step back."

"Some difficulty. You think?" He scoffs at my choice of words. "Man, I can't get a grip. It's like something was taken from me when the Mark was removed. A part of me is gone."

"What part is that?"

"The part that helps me deal. I …." His sentence is cut off by his emotion.

"You didn't lose that part of yourself, Dean," I try to reassure him. "You were wounded when the Mark was removed. You need to heal."

"I can't …," he admits. "I can't do this."

"You can."

"What if I can't?" his voice rises in desperation.

"Sam and I are here to help you," I offer, and I know what he's thinking. "I know how difficult it is for you to accept help from anyone. You believe it to be a weakness to not be able to fight this alone. But Dean, there is no greater strength than accepting help from the people who care about you."

Dean doesn't answer, but it seems he doubts that my presence, or Sam's, is enough. I won't let him know, but I wonder too if we are enough to get him through this.

"You must not give up," I appeal to him, unable to restrain the worry creeping from my voice. I know what he tried to do to himself, and he knows that I know. "Promise me you'll keep fighting this."

"Yeah," he mumbles weakly, his eyes cast down. "Okay."

His answer isn't good enough for me, so I keep my eyes on him until he lifts his head. "Okay," he says, his voice stronger, though not by much.

And then he asks me to check on Sam. Always the big brother — the protector. I know that as long as he's worried about Sam, he won't harm himself. So I agree to check on his younger sibling so he might gain some peace of mind.

I find Sam lying on his bed still fully clothed staring at the ceiling. He doesn't see me because I don't let him. I know these brothers too well. If I asked, he would say he's fine. I don't have the patience at the moment to listen to him lie. But for now, there is one thing I can do. As I touch Sam's forehead, his eyes close and he drifts off into a deep sleep. 

xxxxxxXxxxxxx 

Sleep induced by an angel feels different that natural sleep. During the past two months, Cas has used his power to force me to sleep a couple of times. When I woke up this time, I knew he had done it again. The numbers on the clock at my bedside tells me it's 7:15. I have no idea whether it's a.m. or p.m. I could have been sleeping for days for all I know.

Each time Cas made me sleep, my dreams had been vivid. But now I'm waking up from a dream that was even more intense. Dean had used the word "revealing" to describe his dream. I realize that the same word applies to mine. It makes me wonder if Cas forced these images in our heads.

I rub a hand across my eyes and feel the moisture from tears I must have shed while I was asleep. I saw things from my life that I remember well and things I could not have known. I saw my mother in flames on the ceiling and my brother carry me to safety from the burning house. I saw Dad come scoop us both up and rush us away from the fire. I was only six months old so that could not have been a memory.

I saw many things I remembered but had not fully appreciated and some things I had long forgotten. I saw my brother take care of me even when he was only a child himself. Though I had always known that Dean made many sacrifices for me, I never knew how many. Some were small and seemingly insignificant — like letting me have the last bowl of cereal. Some had repercussions that Dean still lives with today, such as choosing to leave Sonny's home for boys and a chance for a normal life.

I wonder who he would be now if he stayed at that home. A mechanic? A husband? Father? I wonder who I would be — a hunter or a lawyer or perhaps even Lucifer's vessel. Without Dean, I don't know if I could have resisted the devil.

I saw how many times Dean acted as a buffer between me and Dad — taking the blame when I screwed up or sometimes as a physical barrier when Dad and I argued. He would just stand between us letting every harsh word filter through him as if that would ease the anger between Dad and me.

The most common phrase Dean heard from Dad in those formative years was "watch out for Sammy." And he did. Without fail and without complaint. For the first time, I understand why it felt like such a betrayal to him when I left for Stanford.

Even when I left, Dean didn't stop looking after me. He told me once how sometimes Dad would swing by Stanford to make sure I was okay. Dean never mentioned that he checked up on me as well — more frequently than I could have imagined. Even after I had rejected him repeatedly during my freshman year. I wish that leaving that life had not meant cutting ties with my family. I wish it had not meant leaving my brother behind. And I wish I could have known how frightened Dean had been of being left alone even then.

If the dream ended there, it would have been enough to bring me to my knees. But it had more to reveal to me. I saw every moment in our relationship. Dean saved me, protected me, stood up for me, fought with me, and sacrificed himself for me countless times. We were too often angry and even disappointed with each other. We bickered frequently. I resented him for a long time for being so bossy — for taking charge of my life when all I wanted was independence.

A couple of times, I thought I would never be able to forgive my brother for whatever unforgivable thing he had done — but how could I not forgive him? When I needed Dean, he was always there. Always. My stubborn, sometimes overbearing, usually overprotective, and certainly bigger than life brother never gave up on me.

When Dean says that someone is like family to him, there is no higher compliment he can give. When he calls me brother, he's telling me how much I mean to him. When he calls me his _little_ brother, he's saying he will watch out me.

While Dad was consumed with finding the yellow-eyed demon that killed Mom, and I was obsessed with finding a way out of the hunter's life, Dean had thrown himself into keeping our family together. Nothing was more important to him. I guess I've always known that, but I'm ashamed to see that I haven't always appreciated it.

I pull myself out of bed and look into the smoky mirror that hangs above the sink in my room. I rub my hand across the beard that now hides my face. My hair is now past my shoulders and much too shaggy. My eyes are underlined by dark circles. My God, I'm a mess. The excess hair doesn't begin hide the agony I feel. And Dean could see it despite my feeble efforts to hide it.

I realize now that when Dean told me that we need to learn to let each other go, he meant that I need to let him go. Even now, he is trying to protect me.

I think back to what I wanted just a few months ago. I wanted Dean free of the Mark. I wanted him alive. I just wanted my big brother back. Now that I have him back, I wonder why that hasn't been enough. Why am I still standing on an edge almost ready to fall?

I've always known that my brother keeps his pain buried deep inside. He's locked it down so he could do whatever he needed to do — like watching out for me. Now that the Mark has been ripped out of him, that dam has been broken. Years of hurt are pouring out. Cas says he's overwhelmed, and I can see that he is.

I realize that my brother only needs one thing from me — to be as strong for him as he has been for me for all of these years. He needs me to pull myself together. He needs for me to lock down my struggles so I can help him with his.

I need to clean myself up.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: Since both of the next two chapters were a bit short, I'm going to post both. They are somewhat related, but not closely enough to jam them in one chapter. So you get two updates! Many thanks for reading!**_

* * *

 _ **The Breakfast Club**_ _ **  
**_

Another plate of food has been placed in front of me by the guardian angel I can't seem to shake. Okay, so I don't really want him to leave. I realize that I need him around, and Sam needs him. The past couple of days have been brutal. I've had flashbacks and hallucinations and numerous panic attacks. A few times, I was physically sick — unable to keep down any food or drink. The effects of having the Mark removed have been more difficult than I could have imagined. Cas has been there to help me at every grueling step.

Despite being preoccupied with these nasty side effects, I'm worried about my brother. Our last conversation left me with an uneasy feeling. I look down at the plate of food that I can't stomach until I know Sam's okay.

I'll eat, I tell Cas, if he'll check on Sam one more time. It's been more than a day since Cas forced him to sleep and probably not more than an hour since I made him check the last time.

"He was exhausted," Cas tells me, his abundant patience finally wearing thin. "He needs rest."

"I know," I admit. Sam looked way past exhausted. I don't think he's had a full night's sleep since … well, since I massacred those men. When he found me soaked in blood kneeling in the midst of the carnage, it was the moment I realized that the Mark was something I wouldn't be able to fight. It was going to take me down sooner rather than later.

I think I already knew that on some level, but I hadn't admitted that to Sam, or even to myself. Though I was stunned and shamed by what I had done, I was more shattered by the look on Sam's face. His disbelief, disappointment and panic were all rolled up into one brief look that he couldn't disguise quickly enough. He pulled me off the floor and cleared us out of there, not even bothering to clean up the scene.

I shake away the memories and find my hand resting on the spot on my arm that bore the Mark. It's gone now, but Sam's still struggling with what happened and who I've become. I appeal to Cas once more. "Please."

Cas disappears and is back in literally a flash. I think he's must have missed his wings because he hardly walks anywhere. "He's awake."

I perk up and wait for more information, which unsurprisingly doesn't come. "Is he alright?"

"I think so Dean," Cas huffs, letting his annoyance show. He's allowed to feel irritated because I've been a pain in the ass for the past day and a half. When I haven't been battling hallucinations, flashbacks and panic attacks or puking my guts out, I've been nagging him about Sam. He hasn't had a minute's peace. And he hasn't complained once.

"He's taking a shower," the angel says impatiently. "I may not be an expert at social etiquette, but I didn't think it was the time to ask."

"You're right." I concede with a sigh. At least Sam's up and moving again. I've been anxious to talk to him again after our last conversation. I need to see for myself that he's okay.

Keeping my end of the bargain, I start eating the eggs and bacon Cas has prepared. For an angel, he's a pretty good cook. And I find that I'm actually hungry. The nausea is gone, and I haven't had a vision or a panic attack in hours.

I eat slowly, glancing frequently at the door to see if Sam comes in. The plate of food is half empty when my brother finally makes his appearance.

The last time I saw Sam, he was haggard and distraught. He was barely holding it together. Now, he looks like a new man. He's clean shaven and his hair is about two inches shorter. More than that, he seems steady.

"Good morning," he says to me with a smile tugging at his lips as if it's just a normal day. Then he looks to Cas. "Wait. Is it morning? How long was I out?"

"It is morning," Cas answers, equally intrigued by Sam's improved appearance. "You slept for almost 18 hours."

"Huh. I guess I needed it," he says as he sits across from me and steals my cup of coffee and takes a sip. "You gonna eat that?" he asks as he reaches for the leftover bacon on my plate.

"No," I mumble as I stare at my brother, who has apparently gone through a hell of a transformation since we last spoke.

"I'll make you some food," Cas, who's eyeing Sam with interest, interjects.

"That would be great. I'm starving."

Cas snaps out of his trance and turns to make more eggs.

"Sam," I say in a serious tone. "I need to ask you something."

"Yeah," he leans in, his expression matching mine. He's preparing himself for me to ask something important or profound.

"Did you cut your own hair?"

"Just a trim," he says with mock indignation.

"Give me some clippers and I can take care of the rest of it."

"Shut up," he grins, and his eyes light up at the fact that I could tease him again. I suppose it has been a long time. I can't help but smile in return.

His expression turns serious again. "How are you? And don't just say fine. I really need to know. And I could just ask Cas, but I want to hear it from you."

This new Sam is not pulling any punches. And the truth is Cas would just tell him anyway, so I fess up. "It's been rough, man. But I'm okay at the moment."

He nods, satisfied with my answer. He'll probably get the details from Cas, but I can't bring myself to talk about it all right now.

The angel sets a plate of food and a cup of coffee in front of Sam and sits down at the end of the table, watching us both with eyes squinted and unblinking. Hell, I guess we all have been through so much that I don't feel awkward having Cas stare at us like that.

Sam eats a few bites and breaks the silence. "Cas, I need to know something."

Cas turns his head towards Sam while I hope that he doesn't want to know something about me. I actually feel okay and I want this moment of ease between the three of us to last.

"When you knocked me out, did you make me dream?"

"Don't humans always dream when they sleep? I did when I was human," Cas responds.

"Yes, but this was different," Sam says as he glances at me and back to Cas.

"How so?" Cas asks.

"It was about you and me," I presume. That's what I dreamed when Cas knocked me out. I'm guessing Sam dreamed about us, too.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Like you're on the outside looking into your own life," I continue. "Memories."

"Yes."

"No." Cas looks between the two of us. "I mean I didn't cause the dreams. I just helped you sleep. And you both needed it."

"Okay," Sam shrugs. "I was just wondering because … it was just that it …." He blows out a breath and continues. "There was a message in my dream."

He's looking at me now and my stomach drops. My dream had a message, too. We need to let each other go. But not yet. I'm terrified that he's going to run like hell away from this damaged brother of his.

"What was the message?" Cas asks, and my increasing heart beat signals a panic attack coming on. I use every bit of strength I have to push it back. At least until Sam confirms what I fear.

Sam and Cas both seem to sense my apprehension. Maybe it's the bullets I'm sweating that gives me away.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," Cas suggests with his gaze now fully on me.

"No. I need to say this now," Sam insists, catching my eyes. "Dean, you've been one hell of a brother. Do you know that?"

"In a good way, I hope." I cringe at my own comment. I meant it as a joke but I come across as an insecure jackass.

"In the best way." His smile is slight, but his eyes show that it's genuine. "Dad put the weight of the world on you. I never realized how much you carried. I should've known, but I didn't. I'm sorry about that."

I'm still waiting for Sam to drop the bomb as he keeps talking.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. And I don't mean all the times you saved my life. I wouldn't be who I am now if not for you."

I shake my head and break eye contact. This is all getting too uncomfortable. "You would be fine." Better even, but I don't say that.

"I really wouldn't," he says. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" I ask, but I'm not sure I want to know.

"The point is we have to be completely honest with each other if we're going to get through this. When you're having problems, I need to know. Whatever you're going through, you can tell me. I know you're worried about me, and that's okay. You've always been worried about me. I get that. And I get why. But I worry about you, too. Too many times we've kept secrets from each other. And each and every time we've done that, things have gone sideways."

I can't argue with that. Lying to each other has messed us up every time.

"So I'm going to be honest now," he tells me, and I feel the bile rising in my throat.

"Two days ago, I was breaking apart. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe the stress. Probably all of it, but I was scared that I was going to lose you again. I'm not ready for that. But you're _alive_." He lips tilt into a smile like that turn of events is a good thing. "You're here and the Mark is gone. The darkness is still locked up. I guess I thought if you got rid of the Mark, you'd be all good. You know. Back to normal. But you have a fight ahead of you. So whatever happens now, we'll fight it together."

He gives a quick glance to Cas. "All of us." He looks back at me, his expression firm. "I know you think that we will have to let each other go one day. But that day is not today. As long as you're fighting, I'll be fighting with you."

Damn it. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes — again. For the umpteenth time since I awoke from my coma. "Yeah, okay," I manage as I do my best to blink them away.

"But not here," he announces.

"What?"

Cas is confused too. But Sam has a smirk that shows he's quite pleased with himself.

"Do you remember what you said you wanted to do when you were free of the Mark? When Charlie first found the Book of the Damned."

"Yeah." I know exactly what he's talking about. I mentioned it once. _Once_. And somehow, Sam remembered that. Or maybe the dream he had reminded him. But that was okay because my dream reminded me of a lot things I had forgotten as well. Like how my brother, who always wanted a normal life, stuck around for me.

Cas is still puzzled. "What did he want?"

"Surf and sand," Sam answers as he grins back at me. "A warm breeze. And a whole lot of peace and quiet."


	9. Chapter 9

**Somewhere on a Beach**

I know Sam thinks this is a good plan but he has no idea how risky is it. A beach vacation? Now? When Rowena is on the loose and Death is out for revenge. The warding in the bunker protects the brothers and allows me to focus on making sure Dean is healing.

When Sam explains that Dean mentioned a trip to the beach, I almost refuse. But I notice something in Dean's eyes I have not seen since he awoke — a tinge of enthusiasm. He wants to go.

How can I say no? The past couple of days were hell for Dean. Well, not exactly as hellish as hell, but close. The flashbacks alone nearly broke him down. Then the hallucinations started and he didn't know what was real and what was imagined. That brought on the panic attacks which lead to the nausea.

That he was so willing to let me help him without complaint spoke volumes about his state of mind. I have never seen Dean so vulnerable.

I pull Sam aside and remind him of the dangers out there. Crowley is holding a grudge. Rowena just needs to prove a point. And Death. Death could obliterate us all in a moment. And that doesn't include the faction of angels that still want me to pay for my part in the Metatron fiasco.

But he reminds me that Dean's biggest struggle is going on inside of him — not out there. "He needs this, Cas," he pleads. "I think we both do."

I peer at Dean, who is waiting expectantly for my answer. I don't know if he can hear the conversation, but he surely knows what we are saying.

"He needs a place that doesn't remind him of anything," Sam tells me. "Not the Mark, not hunting. Not killing."

I know this is true. But the risk is so great.

"How are you?" I ask Sam. And I really need to know. I cannot protect them from Death and Crowley and Rowena and watch out for Dean all while worrying about Sam. "You may look better …."

"I am better …." Sam insists.

"But?"

"I am what Dean needs me to be right now," the younger Winchester admits. "I know that I need to help my brother, and falling apart isn't going to help him. So I'm pulling a Dean Winchester by pushing it down until he's better."

"Have you noticed that hasn't worked very well for him?" I point out.

"It did for years," Sam retorts. "That dream showed me how often and for how long Dean pushed down what he needed to help me. It's my turn. I can do this. I promise."

"So much for you two being completely honest with each other," I shake my head.

"I _was_ honest," Sam maintains. "I told him I almost fell apart. I had no strength left. Now I do. I'm still scared. I'm still worried. But I have enough in me to keep going."

I don't even ask Sam for permission to touch is forehead so I can read his thoughts and feelings. He jumps at the contact, but he lets me in. After a few moments, I release him and deliver my verdict.

"Okay."

xxxxxXxxxxx 

I have been to the ocean and in the ocean and around the ocean many times in my existence. What I have not done is have a vacation at the ocean. I have no idea what is needed. Sam makes me a list and I do my best. Much of the list consists of clothing I have never seen the Winchesters wear — swim suits, shorts, and some sort of sandal called a flip flop.

I take all the supplies and a hearty amount of food to the house I have found. It's a beautiful home in the Caribbean with its own private beach. I am able to ward the area around the beach from anything that may cause danger to the brothers.

About a mile up the beach is a bar that may provide some entertainment for Dean. I have warded that as well. Joshua recommended a few trusted angels that will help me watch over the areas that cannot be warded.

Dean and Sam seem satisfied with the supplies I have provided.

"What about you?" Sam asks as he surveys the clothing.

"What do you mean," I wonder, puzzled by his question.

"What will you wear?"

"This," I answer, motioning at my suit and trench coat. "It's what I always wear."

"You can't wear a trench coat on a beach," Dean pipes in, though he seems amused by the discussion.

"Why not? The vacation is not for me."

"You're staying with us, right?" Sam clarifies.

"Of course," I say. "I have to protect you."

"You'll stand out a little, Cas," he tries to explain.

"Then I'll just take off the coat." I do that as I speak and throw it across a chair. "Better?"

"And the tie," Dean chimes in. "And the suit. Did you buy one of these for yourself?" He asks holding up a bathing suit.

"I don't plan to swim," I note.

"Do you plan to stick out like a sore thumb?" Dean asks as he motions at my attire. "Because you will if you wear that getup on a Caribbean .…"

Dean cuts himself off before he finishes his thought, suddenly distracted as he pulls something called a Speedo out of his luggage. "What's this?" he asks, holding out the piece of clothing as if it might bite him.

"It's a swim brief. The sales clerk said they are very popular in the Caribbean."

"I'm not wearing it," Dean announces and tries to hand it off to Sam.

The younger brother puts his hands behind his back, refusing to take it. "I'm not wearing it."

I'm confused, but I won't let an item of clothing disturb Dean's vacation. Though it does have much, much less fabric than the other clothing, I reach for the Speedo. "You said I need a swim suit. I'll wear it."

Dean suddenly jerks it away. "Uh, no. We don't want to see that. You're not wearing it either."

Though I still don't understand the problem, I hear Sam chuckling in the background. Dean is doing a poor job of stifling a smile. That's a good start to this vacation, so I decide it's better to leave well enough alone. "Fine. I'll get more garments."

The mood in the room is so relaxed, I am taken completely off guard when it changes.

Dean tenses and all color drains from his face. His eyes widen as he stares at the empty space just past me. His breathing becomes heavy and erratic, signaling the start of another anxiety attack.

I'm not sure what triggers it, but Dean is seeing something — an hallucination.

Sam calls his name several times to get his attention, but it will not help. Dean and I have been through this too often while Sam slept. It will last until it doesn't. Nothing I could do or say before would help. But the worried brother keeps trying, holding a hand against Dean's shoulder hoping that physical contact will break the trance.

Dean's eyes shift, marking the moment the hallucination ends. But it's not over. He's sweating and breathing hard, and I know what comes next. Dean pulls away from his brother and rushes to a small garbage can in the corner and hovers over it as the contents of his stomach are forcefully expelled.

Sam kneels beside him keeping a hand on his back until the retching ends and Dean turns and collapses on the floor with his back against the wall. It all lasts maybe a couple of minutes.

I stoop by the brothers to hand Dean a cool cloth for him to wipe his face. "What did you see?" I ask. Sometimes he tells me and sometimes he doesn't. This time, terror is still in his eyes as he looks from me to Sam.

"What was it?" Sam presses. The little brother has some persuasion that I do not and Dean answers — albeit with a timid voice.

"Death," he says. "I saw Death."


	10. Chapter 10

**The Shadow of Death  
**

I had my first hallucination when I was maybe 16 years old. Dad and I had spent half the night on a hunt, and I messed up badly. We were hunting a werewolf that was so dangerous, Dad refused to let Sammy come along. He was ordered to stay in the motel to research a monster we weren't even hunting at the time.

By the time I was Sam's age, I would go with Dad on about half of his hunts. But not Sam. Dad said he wasn't ready. He was allowed only to help hunt the ghosts or monsters that were predictable and an easy kill. And only if Dad and I both were around to get his back. Sam had plenty of training. He was a good shot with anything from the sawed off shotgun to a bow and arrow. In a fight, he could bring down someone three times his size. And he was damn good at shooting salt rounds into a ghost. But Dad said that Sam didn't have it in him to kill some of the things we saw. Yet. We still needed to keep him safe.

I wanted to protect Sam, too. It would have killed me if anything happened to him. But I guess I was a little jealous. Dad never seemed as concerned about protecting me. And when I messed up, he let me have it. That day was no different.

It was the first werewolf I had ever seen. And he almost bit me. Dad saved me just in time when he blew the son of a bitch away with about a half dozen silver bullets.

He raged about all of the mistakes I made. Something I understand now is that he wanted me to be a good hunter because anything less would have gotten me killed. Dad _was_ trying to protect me.

But I didn't get that back then. I was a pissed off teenager who thought my Dad was too critical. Sam got the safe research jobs while I had to face some truly horrifying things. Dad's idea of a compliment was a quick pat on my back — maybe a beer when the hunt was over. But he always pointed out my mistakes. When I really screwed up, he would leave me with Sam for the next hunt.

If I complained about not hunting with him, he would tell me that keeping Sam safe was the most important job I had.

I didn't mind watching after Sammy. I would have died for him without a second thought. What bothered me was that I felt I wasn't good enough. Sometimes, I still think that.

After that hunt, once the werewolf was dead, Dad ripped me a new one. He was angrier than I had ever seen him. But his tone changed completely when we got back to the motel. He didn't want Sam to know how bad the hunt was. He refused to tell him about the werewolf or that I almost was turned into one because he didn't want to scare Sammy.

When Dad took a shower, I ignored my my little brother's questions about what happened and told him that I was going to get some food. He was a smart kid, so he knew something was up. I heard him call my name as the motel door slammed shut on my way out of the room.

I took the Impala and drove to a dive in the middle of nowhere and hooked up with a group of thugs I met a few days before. I was arrogant enough to think I could fit in. But they saw me coming. The bartender didn't blink when I ordered a whiskey, but I could hear a few others around me snicker. I thought I was in on the joke.

It wasn't my first whiskey and I could hold a few without a problem. But the bartender put something in this one. I don't know exactly what it was, but it messed me up. I starting to see things that I knew weren't there.

The room was spinning when I felt hands on me, pulling things out of my pockets. Stealing everything I had on me. Which wasn't much. A few dollars in cash and a fake id. I could've taken out all of those punks if I had been in my right mind. But whatever was in that drink made me helpless to defend myself. When there was nothing else to take, they dragged me outside, beat me up and threw me into a ditch.

For hours, I was paralyzed by the things I saw — every kind of monster I had ever encountered attacking me. The most frightening hallucination was that werewolf that attacked me earlier. But I thought it was real. It was hours before Dad found me passed out in the ditch.

When I woke up back in the motel, I believed I had been bitten. I remember screaming that the werewolf got me and crying to Dad that I didn't want to become one of those things. It was one of the few times Dad consoled me. His hand rested on my shoulder as he told me none of it had been real and that I was fine. Then he pulled me into a hug — something he hadn't done since I was about 9 years old. He held me while I cried into his chest.

Once I settled down, he talked to me in a real quiet voice. He said he thought he lost me, and told me not to run off again. I'll never forget what he said next. "I'll never let anything happen to you, son."

Then he said he had to take care of something and told Sam to watch out me. I never learned what he did that day, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the guys who drugged me.

I don't know which surprised me more — that Dad didn't yell at me for taking off and getting into trouble or that he told Sam to keep an eye on me. I was always the one to watch out for my brother. What I did know is that I never wanted to feel like that again. In the years since, I practically soaked my liver in alcohol and I've taken more than a few pills to take the edge of the pain from a fight, but I promised myself I would never use the hard drugs. It would have destroyed my ability as a hunter and it would have destroyed my Dad's faith in me.

Nothing in all my years of hunting scared me as much as that first hallucination — until the Mark of Cain brought a whole nother hell to my life.

The flashbacks and hallucinations I've had since I woke up have been horrifying. They've induced panic attacks and bouts of nausea. But when they were over, I've been able to distinguish truth from fiction. Not this time.

Those Cas denies it, I still think the vision was real. I believe Death found a way to get in my head. I believe he intends to carry out all of the threats he made. I think I will lose my brother and my friend, and I will be forced to live the rest of my life in solitude knowing that their deaths will be on me. _Nothing_ scares me more.

My hands are still shaking as Sam hands me a bottle of water. After I rinse the putrid taste out of my mouth, he helps me to a chair. He's worried. Cas is worried. Hell, I'm worried, but not for the same reason. They think I'm going crazy. Though they're not wrong about that, I sense something different about this vision. It wasn't a hallucination and it wasn't a flashback.

Sam asks me again what I saw. "Was Death trying to kill you?"

I shake my head. I know I need to tell them exactly what he said, but forming the words seem impossible. I curse the fact that I can't seem to get a handle on myself anymore. I take a swig of water and a few deep breaths so I can explain. Sam's ever present hand on my shoulder helps steady me.

"Death is angry that I screwed him over," I start. Death's cold, penetrating voice invades my consciousness and I feel my heart start racing again. I take a deep breath and forge ahead because even if it kills me, I'm going to learn to control my emotions again. My voice doesn't sound like my own but I keep talking. "He said he plans to kill you and Cas and that I'll have to watch you die."

I swallow hard so I can tell them the worst of it. " And he'll force me to live with that forever. He'll never let me die."

"He wasn't really here, Dean," Cas assures me. "It was just a hallucination."

"Was it?" I know I'm off my game, but I need them to listen to me. "This was different, Cas. I can't explain how I know, but I believe Death was here — in my head."

"Is that even possible?" Sam asks Cas. I'm relieved that at least one of them is listening to me.

Cas wants to say no, but he doesn't. "I don't know," he admits. "It's Death. I suppose he could get inside your head. But that's not saying he did."

"Maybe we should go back to the bunker," I offer. As much as I wanted to be here, I can't let anything happen to Sam or Cas. "You two will be safer there."

Cas shakes his head. "Not yet. I'm still not convinced that Death was here."

Since Cas didn't think it was a good idea to come here in the first place, I don't know why he's so resistant to calling the the whole beach thing off. The angel is pacing in front of me making me more nervous than I already am. I see for the first time the weight he's been carrying to keep Sam and me safe. The things that are after us — after me — are strong and powerful. The angels are pissed because the Darkness was almost released. Crowley is pissed because Sam tried to kill him. Rowena is out for blood and Death just wants revenge.

"We can't take that chance," I insist, my voice rising. "I can't be the reason that you …."

"Stop," Sam interrupts. "It's not your fault."

It is all my fault. I know that, but I also know that Sam will keep trying to make me feel better by saying it's not. So I don't respond.

Cas has reached a decision, and I'm pretty sure whatever I say, I won't be able to change his mind. "I'm going to check it out — see if I can find out what Death is up to and whether he can penetrate your mind."

"What will we do?" Sam asks. "Wait here? Go back to the bunker?"

"This house is thoroughly warded. Even if Death can get into Dean's head, he can't get into the house. Stay inside no matter what happens," Cas orders. "I won't be long."

He disappears and leaves Sam and me alone in the house. I look at my brother wishing I knew what to say. I'm sorry isn't enough, and he refuses to listen to any apologies. I could tell him he'll be alright, but it would sound weak because I'm not sure it's true.

Before the silence gets uncomfortable, he gets up and pours two bourbons. He hands me a glass as he sits beside me on the couch as we wait for the angel to return. 

xxxxxXxxxxx 

Next to God, Death is the oldest and most powerful being in the universe. And I just promised to find him for Dean.

I don't even know where to start.

I flew away from the beach house intent on getting Death to answer my question. I made it as far as the ocean when I stopped. Still invisible to the humans in my charge, I simply stared out considering my options.

I could summon Death. He would probably kill me. The biggest problem with that is that I wouldn't be able to protect Dean and Sam. Though God could choose to send another angel, I knew they wouldn't trust anyone the way they trust me.

The angels are unlikely to be forthcoming about what they know, and I'm not too favored by the reapers at the moment.

With no other option left, I pray to my Father. Within moments, I found myself standing amidst lush foliage. I spin around to determine my location when I see the angel Joshua watching me. I am in Heaven's garden and Joshua seems surprised to see me.

"Why am I here?"

"It wasn't of your own volition?" the angel asks.

"No."

He instructs me to wait. I obey but I am anxious to ask Joshua about Death. He closes his eyes and after a few moments looks at me again.

"Help me with my gardening," he instructs as he hands me some sheers.

"Excuse me?"

"The roses need pruning," he says and he walks away, expecting me to follow.

"I don't have time …," I complain. I need answers and my patience is thin. If Death is after Dean, he and Sam are indeed unsafe in the beach house where I left them.

"You have nothing but time," Joshua responds evenly.

"But Death …."

"Is not your concern." He starts snipping away at the rose bushes.

I want to argue … to beg for help. I want answers. But something inside quiets me, and I comply. I start cutting back some of the branches and find myself immersed in my task. It is amazingly calming. Joshua's only comments are to give me guidance at how to correctly prune the bush.

After awhile, he announces that we are done and I may go back to the Winchesters.

"What about Death?" I ask. "Are the Winchesters in danger? Is there something more I need to do to protect them?"

"God told me that Death will not be an issue."

I gape at Joshua, incredulous at his response. How could the angel possibly know that when he was was by my side chatting about gardening the entire time. "When did God tell you that?"

Just before he told me to have you help me tend my garden," the angel responds.

"I don't understand." I try to comprehend what is happening — struggling not to get angry. Struggling to be the compliant. But I can't leave without knowing if the safe house has been compromised. Dean is counting on me and I cannot let him down. The shadow Death has cast on Dean is real even if his vision was not.

"I thought we were waiting for God to answer."

"God did answer, and he gave me instruction — which I gave to you," the angel responds passively.

"So Dean seeing Death was a hallucination?"

"I don't know," Joshua answers, unconcerned with the question. "God only said not to worry. He has a mission for those boys, and Death will not get in the way."

I bow my head, dismayed with the lack of information. Obedience is so important in an angel, and God had given me another chance despite my rebellion. I struggle with feelings of doubt and why my time was wasted working in Heaven's garden when I have such an important mission.

I don't need to voice my concerns to Joshua. He already knows. And he offers an explanation without me to asking.

"You needed renewal," he explains. "You came here anxious. How do you feel now?"

"I …." I don't know how to answer. I am not sure how I feel.

Joshua steps closer to me. "Castiel. How do you feel now?"

I shrug as I consider my temperament. "More at ease, I suppose."

The wise angel nods at me. For the first time, I realize the purpose of helping him in the garden. "But Death …."

"God will deal with Death. Perhaps he already job is to take care of the Winchesters. Your soul needed to be refreshed."

"What do I tell Dean?" I already know that he will ask. I still don't have an answer. "Can Death get into his head or was it all imagined? Are the brothers in danger?"

"This has been your journey," the gardener replies. "Now go. You've been gone for several hours and the boys are worried about you."

Heaven is a timeless place so I don't know how long I have been away. But I find myself back in the beach house with answers that I am sure will be insufficient for Dean. 

xxxxxXxxxxx 

This wasn't the vacation I pictured for Dean. I hoped that the hallucinations and the panic attacks would stop and he could enjoy the tranquility the ocean would bring. When will I learn that nothing is ever that easy?

Cas takes far longer than either of us expect. Dean is pacing the floor now, getting more anxious by the minute. I'm anxious too, but I manage to push it down. A couple of hours can't be very long in an angel's world. And it must be very difficult to find out what Death's up to.

Still, I start making contingency plans in my head as I watch my brother steadily unravel. We're an island in God knows where, so simply driving home isn't an option. Without angel transportation, it will take a boat and a plane and finally a car to make it back to the bunker. We might as well put a flashing sign on our backs for Death or Rowena to find us.

The other option is to stay here. Live our lives on this island. Though I have to admit, the thought of it sounds appealing, it's not very practical. We've spent our lives hunting — working constantly. Whenever we took time off, one of us would get restless. Plus, I know that eventually, I'll have to take out Rowena. I'm responsible for the power she now has, so I'm the one who'll have to take care of it. Burying our heads in the sand isn't meant to last forever.

I look up at my brother, grateful that although he is apprehensive, he's not losing it. No hallucinations or flashbacks. No panic attacks. No nausea. That's something.

I look from my brother to the kitchen stocked with enough food for a month. Maybe eating would be a good distraction. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

Neither am I. We've both had enough whiskey for the time being and we need to be alert if Cas doesn't return. Even if Dean doesn't need a distraction, I do. So I poke around the refrigerator for something. It's full of an assortment of food — some healthy and some not so much. Eventually, I close the door without anything.

When I turn back, I find Dean watching me. "Nothing looks good?" he asks, nodding toward all the food around me.

"Just not hungry, I guess."

"You okay?"

Am I okay? Dean has no idea how comforting it is that he can even ask me that. He still has it together enough to be concerned about me. "Yeah. I mean, I'm worried. He's been gone for long time."

"Yeah," he answers. "I'm worried, too."

"But you're calm." I can't help but point it out. Considering the past few days, that's significant.

"I'm about to crawl out of my skin."

"Despite how you feel, you're holding it together."

Dean shakes his head and walks to the French doors overlooking the ocean. The sun is beginning to set and the view is stunning, though it doesn't give Dean peace.

"I'm scared, man."

"About Cas?"

"Yeah, about Cas. Death could take him out in a second. But …." Dean keeps staring out as a way to avoid looking at me. "I'm doing everything I can to hold myself together. I can barely …."

He voice fades out. I can remember only a couple of times that Dean admitted to being afraid. His usual MO was to deny it — the only clue would be the grinding of his jaw and a certain look in his eyes. Right now, it's written all over his face.

"Why did we let him go?" he asks, finally looking at me. "This is insane. Why would he go to face Death? He could crush Cas in a second. What I saw … it probably wasn't real. I can't tell the difference anymore."

I shrug because I don't have an answer. And I don't know what to say to make Dean feel better.

"If anything happens to him …," Dean starts, letting the implication settle in the silence.

"I'm fine."

The voice comes out of nowhere causing Dean and me to jump. We turn to see that Cas has returned. 

xxxxxXxxxxx 

Though we are relieved to see Cas alive, and I guess well, we are equally frustrated because he has nothing to tell. He doesn't know if the vision was real or imagined. He's enigmatic when he says Death will not cause harm to us.

No matter what we ask or how, he has no more information. But he looks dazed — like something happened to him that he refuses to discuss.

Dean challenges him. "I need more than that. If I saw Death, you and Sam …."

"I know," Cas says. "I know you're afraid. I can only tell you what I was told. Have faith."

Cas looks as if he fully expected Dean's cynical grunt. My brother is not and has never been a man of faith. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out what's different about Cas. He seems more settled than he did before he left. More confident.

Dean tries a different tact. "Listen, man. I appreciate everything you have done for me and Sam. I know I haven't been the easiest patient. But I feel like I could implode at any moment."

"I understand," Cas tries to appease him.

"You _don't_ understand," Dean shouts, the precarious hold he has on himself begins to falter. "I can't lose Sam … or you."

I worry that we're about to witness another panic attack, and I'm not sure how to stop it. But Cas is unruffled as he steps toward Dean.

"I know," he says, looking at Dean with a piercing gaze that has a remarkably calming effect on him. "I know that losing Sam is not an option. I will not let that happen. You know I will do anything to protect you. I would die for you both."

"I know you would," Dean nods contritely. Though he's calmer, his voice is trembling.

"I don't know what's going to happen, but I've been told that Death will not reach you. Even if Death manages to invade your mind, he will not harm you or Sam," Cas reiterates. "I know you don't have faith in God or the other angels, but I need you to trust me."

Dean locks eyes with Cas, struggling to put his faith in the one angel he can trust. I can see that he wants to, but he's afraid. It takes him only a few moments to make the decision — one that's obviously because what he knows about Cas rather than how he feels.

"Okay," he says quietly as his eyes drop toward the floor. "Of course I do."

Cas looks at me to see if he also has my trust. I glance at my brother, who is trying his best to let this go and believe that we'll be okay. The only thing I can do is support that. So I look at Cas and nod. "I'm in."


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Apologies to the Zac Brown Band for stealing their lyrics for the title of this chapter. Thanks so much for reading!_

 _ **Putting the world away for a minute**_

Day one of this beach vacation nearly did me in. Seeing Death was a rough start. Waiting and worrying about Cas didn't help. And now I'm supposed to just have faith that Death won't seek revenge against me by killing everyone I care about.

Cas convinces me that I need to let it go. So, because I'm so tired of this constant fear, I have no choice. I decide to go with it and trust my friend the angel. And, in truth, I don't have the strength to fight anymore.

So here I am, finally feeling the sands between my toes nearly a day after we arrive on this island. The weather is hot. The beach is quiet and for the first time, I feel like okay. Not fantastic, but okay.

Sam and Cas haven't let me out of their sight and I started feeling claustrophobic, so I wandered onto the beach without even telling my babysitters where I was going. I'll pay for that later, I'm sure. But right now, this is better than Heaven.

I close my eyes and raise my face toward the sun. The heat permeates my body. I can get use to this.

Of course, my solitude doesn't last long as my well-meaning brother breaks my reverie. "Hey. I thought you might like some company."

What I really want is to be alone, but Sam has done so much for me the past couple of days, I can't tell him that. I slowly open my eyes and squint at my brother. I'm amazed at how much stuff he managed to haul to the beach. Chairs, towels, a cooler of hopefully beer, and an armload of crap that I don't bother to identify.

"We don't have to talk," he adds, somehow reading my reticence as he hands me a pair of sunglasses. "We can just sit — watch the waves. Have a few beers. Just relax."

He brought beer, so how can I say no.

We sit and Sam pulls a book out of the beach bag — a large, bright, floral monstrosity that Cas must have picked out himself. "He's such a child," I mutter.

Sam chuckles but doesn't comment as he opens his book. I don't ask what he's reading. He hates that. He's a geek — a scholar — who could have done so much with his life had he been allowed to. So I give him the time to read in peace just as he allows me the quiet I need. I ignore the magazines obviously meant for me and an iPod that may or may not be for me. I settle into the beach chair and close my eyes again.

My brother is as good as his word and leaves me to my own thoughts while he watches over me. I may be falling apart, but I'm not a fool. I know that Sam and Cas have been keeping a constant eye on me. I knew it last night when I started to cut a melon while Cas was grilling steak. When I picked up the knife, the flashback started. I saw myself decimating the group of men when we rescued Claire Novak. I felt the very moment that I lost control and let the Mark overtake me. I relived every stab and slice and heard every scream all over again. And when it was all over, I experienced the same shame and endured the same look of disappointment from my brother.

All of them were bastards who may have deserved some kind of punishment, but it wasn't on me to be their executioner. And I knew when I was killing them that it wasn't their bad behavior that motivated me. It was pure rage. The overwhelming urge to kill.

As the images overtook me, the knife I was holding clanged to the floor drawing Sam's attention. Though I was aware of my erratic breathing, I tried my best to control it — to conceal my rising panic.

"I'll do this," Sam offered, picking up the knife and grabbing the fruit.

"Yeah," I managed through gritted teeth. "Gotta hit the head."

I thought Sam or Cas would follow, but they didn't. My shaking hand closed the door and I slid down the wall to the floor, grateful that they left me alone to pull myself together.

Though I promised to be honest with Sam, I did not — could not — admit what was happening to me. Just touching an ordinary kitchen knife nearly sent me spiraling again. Though I knew they saw me suffer the flashback and the ensuing panic attack, I still tried to force it down because I needed to at least pretend I had some control.

Later, when I tried to sleep, nightmares returned. I saw myself killing everything — monsters, demons, angels and humans. The guilty and the innocent. I saw everyone I've ever loved die, some at my hand. I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and with my heart pounding in my chest. I could sense a presence even though I saw no one. I knew it had to be Cas.

"I'm okay," I breathed out loud to the seemingly empty room. "I'm okay.

When I got up the next morning, we all pretended it didn't happened. Though by the looks on their faces, I knew I wasn't fooling anyone. So, I accept the fact that my brother and my friend watch over me nonstop. I don't like it, but I understand it. Though sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in, mostly I appreciate it.

Honestly, I do feel better, despite the nightmares. Something about this place. I think maybe it can heal me if I let it.

After more than an hour of silently soaking up the sun, I strike up a conversation with Sam by handing him a beer. We talk about nothing heavy. Nothing about the Mark or the effects of having it removed. No mention of Death or Rowena or Crowley. We just reminisce about our childhood — the good stuff, not the bad. About the wrestling matches Dad would take us to and how Bobby taught us to play catch. We talk about our stopover in St. Louis that one summer to watch the Cardinals play. Sam suggests that we have Cas take care getting satellite TV so we perhaps can watch more sports while we're here.

It feels good to talk about nothing. Just like ordinary brothers. So when I see Cas and Sam whispering, I choose to ignore it. If I ask, they probably will tell me what they're discussing because Sam promised honesty. But I don't want to know. I choose to take no notice of the fact that Sam spends too much time searching something on his computer. I choose to pretend that Cas isn't watching me even when I don't see him. I choose to accept the fantasy that I live a somewhat normal life. And as I do, the panic attacks lessen. I have fewer flashbacks. The hallucinations have stopped altogether and I've had no more visions of Death making threats. The nightmares are the only things I can't shake.

I spend my days swimming in the ocean or running the beach. I frequent the bar that's just a short walk from our house. Sometimes I watch a baseball game or drink beer on the sun deck. A few times, I've even picked up one of Sam's books.

In the six weeks since we've been on this island, I choose to ignore the nagging deep in my soul that something bad is about to happen.

xxxxxxXxxxxxx

It's easy to see that this trip to the beach is exactly what Dean needed. I can't go as far as saying he's happy, but he seems stable — which is considerably better than when we arrived.

When Cas came back that night, neither of us had a clear idea of whether Dean was hallucinating or if Death had invaded his mind. But what I heard Cas say is that it didn't matter. Death would not reach us. I got the impression that Cas couldn't get a straight answer from the angels. Still, he believed that we were safe.

I wanted more details, but that wasn't the time to get them. Though he was trying to hold it together, Dean was unsteady. He had to be the priority so I pushed aside the doubts I had.

The next day, Dean disappeared to walk to the beach, Cas and I watched him from the french doors overlooking the ocean. I knew he needed some space, but I couldn't bring myself to turn away. I was sure he would break apart at any moment. Apparently Cas felt the same way. We both kept our eyes on him as we talked.

I questioned Cas about what happened. He told me how anxious he had been feeling about this trip and his mind was racing about how he would protect Dean from Death and all the other threats bearing down on us. He had no plan when he left, but found himself standing before Joshua in Heaven.

He explained how he thought he was waiting from an answer from God when Joshua asked him to help in the garden. And in that menial task, his mind began to clear.

"I realized I can't do this alone," Cas admitted to me. "I can only do my part."

His eyes scanned my face to gage my reaction. I suspected he saw my doubt that Death would just leave us alone.

"I know you are depending on me and I don't want to let you down."

"You haven't." I schooled my expression to conceal my hesitation, but my response was sincere. I wish I felt his certainty about Death though I do have absolute trust in our friend. I have no doubts of his determination to protect us.

"God is the only being who can stop Death," Cas said distantly as he looked toward the beach. "So I have to have faith. God fixed my wings and he gave me another chance. If God says Death is not an issue, then I believe that."

It all made sense now why he returned with a sense of calm that he was missing before. I understood, but I wasn't sure Dean would. So we agreed not to tell him unless he asked.

But Rowena was another story. Cas revealed that the angels had been talking about some trouble she had been causing. Her power was increasing every day. The previous week, a small town in North Dakota was destroyed by an earthquake."

He turned to me to make sure I understood the significance. "The town doesn't lie near a fault line."

"So Rowena is flexing her muscles?"

"It appears so," Cas confirmed. "She's testing her power for something bigger."

A familiar pang of guilt shot though me. "I should do something," I muttered, still looking at my brother who seemed incredibly lost standing on the beach just a few hundred yards in front of us.

"Something is being done," Cas reminded me. "The angels are working on it."

Though I didn't say it out loud, that didn't make me feel better.

"You should also know that when Joshua initially approached me about watching over the two of you, he said you would have another mission."

"He did?" My head snapped to Cas in surprise. "Do you think it has something to do with Rowena?"

"I don't know," Cas answered, his brow creasing as he watched Dean. "He would only say that all would become clear when it was time."

"That's cryptic," I complained. Cas only shrugged in response.

As much as I wanted to undo the damage I had done with Rowena, I knew that my prime concern was Dean. So I let the subject drop, packed some supplies and joined my brother on the beach. He didn't seem to want me there, but he didn't complain. After a while, he started a conversation. We talked about things we hadn't talked about in a long time. I think it was good for him, and I know it helped me.

In the weeks that followed, Dean had fewer episodes – fewer panic attacks, fewer flashbacks and I think fewer nightmares. At least I didn't hear him screaming as often. But he was different. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing, but it still was troubling me.

Dean started running every morning on the beach. Miles at a time. Sometimes, he would let me run with him. Usually, he said he needed some time to clear his head. Cas wouldn't leave him alone unprotected, so he always followed — though Dean couldn't see him. I think Dean may have known, but he never said anything.

He never questioned me about what I was researching on the computer. Had he asked, I would have taken it as a sign that he was ready to deal with what was out there waiting for us. I promised him no secrets, but he didn't seem to want to know and I didn't want to derail his recovery. So all my concerns about what the witch was up to was kept from him.

Though he went to the beach bar often, he didn't drink much. A beer or two, maybe a shot of whiskey. And he never, ever tried to pick up a girl. If one tried to pick him up, he declined in such a charming way that they never felt insulted.

I understood that at first, he was still shaky and unsure of himself. But as the weeks progressed, he seemed more comfortable. He would chat with the bartender. He would laugh with Cas and me. But he was different. I wanted him to be the brother that he had been before all of this started.

Yet how could I complain? He _was_ better. He just wasn't the same.

A funny thing happened while I was waiting for him to get well. While he was avoiding women, I met one. At first I was resistant because I needed to focus on Dean and finding Rowena. But we saw each other every night at the bar.

I didn't know much about her except that she was on an extended vacation — spending the summer on the same small island. We struck up a conversation about what brought us to the same place. I told her a mostly true version of Dean being injured and we came here for him to recuperate. She said she had a bad ending to a long relationship and wanted to get away.

On the second night, I learned her name — Rachel. On the third night, I bought her a drink. Later that night, we hooked up on a private spot on the beach. When Dean figured it out, he teased me relentlessly. I reveled in the teasing because that was a part of my brother that I had missed the most.

Since, this girl and I have had several hook ups in her hotel or on that same spot on the beach. But I never stay the night, and I certainly can't invite her to our protected house. Keeping Dean safe is too important to let someone else in — even if the thought of spending more time with her is appealing to me.

Dean is encouraging me to spend all night with her. Actually, he's haranguing me. He says I deserve some fun. Cas is less than thrilled. I think he is worried about how he can protect me while watching over Dean.

"She's just a girl," I tell Cas. Once Dean suggested it, I thought maybe it would be okay. "She's not a demon or a witch or anything evil. She was just someone who had a rough time — just like us."

"I don't think what she's been through is remotely the same as what you two have been through," Cas retorts.

"He likes her, Cas," Dean pipes in. "Let him go."

"No," the angel insists. "I can't. It's too dangerous."

"He's an adult, Cas. He should be able to do whatever he wants to do."

"Dean," I try to interrupt. I understand why Cas doesn't want me too, and since our conversation about how much pressure he felt to keep us safe, I don't want to add any more burden to him. "It's okay. I'm fine keeping things the way they are. I don't need to spend the night with her."

"Yes you do," Dean answers more forcefully than I expect.

His tone catches me off guard, as does the tense look on his face. "It's just a fling," I point out. "That's it. We both know that's all we get."

"Yeah," he mutters, his jaw clinched.

While Cas is busy searching Dean's face for an answer, I go for the direct approach. "What's going on, Dean? Why is this so important to you?"

"Because …." I guess Dean is getting back to normal because he clams up after that definitive comment.

Because …?" I prod. I don't really want to talk about my love life with my brother, but I know this conversation isn't really about that.

"Because he feels he's been holding you back from having the life you want," Cas responds, his eyes locked on Dean.

"Stop reading my mind," Dean barks, not bothering to deny what Cas said. "It's annoying."

"I was sensing your feelings not reading your mind," Cas corrects. "There's a difference. I _can_ read your minds but I choose not to. It would be too invasive."

A frustrated Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Good to know," he mutters sarcastically.

"You don't hold me back, Dean." The subject of whether Cas could read our minds also isn't the issue at hand. "You are more important to me that this girl. She's not going to be a great love of my life. I lost her years ago because of the yellow-eyed demon. If anyone stopped me from having a normal life, it was that son of a bitch — and Lucifer."

Dean opens his eyes and stepped closer to me in a big brother stance he had adopted years ago. "Maybe she can be. Maybe it's not too late for you."

"No," I insist. "It _is_ too late. It can never go that far because it will put her in danger. When we go back to hunting …."

"I'm not going back." Dean interrupts, taking a step back — no longer my protective brother but the one who is still wrecked by everything that has happened to him. "I can't hunt — not anymore."

His chin is trembling when he says that, and it proves that he hasn't improved as much as I thought.

"We have time to figure that out," I say, hoping to lay this discussion aside for now. The truth is, I have to go back to hunting because I have unfinished business. Rowena has amassed a great deal of power because of me. I know that Dean can't hear that now, yet he surprises me by what he says next.

"I _have_ figured it out. All of this time here, it's made everything clear. Hunting has cost me everything … _everything –_ including my sanity. I'm staying here. I'm never going back."

"You haven't lost me," I say, though I wonder if I'm stating the obvious. He should know that, but I'm not sure he does.

"I _have_ lost you … countless times. Every time you ran away. Every time you died." His voice fades off as he presses his lips together to gain control. "And I'll lose you again if we go back to hunting."

"You'll lose me? Why? Because we have to let each other go, is that it?" I ask, my tone shifts from concern to exasperation. "Who says? When we go back to hunting and we'll watch out for each other, just like we always have."

"Sam," Cas chides, his watchful eyes never leave Dean's face. "Now isn't the time to discuss if or when you go back to hunting."

I see as clearly as Cas does that Dean is about to lose it again. He's trembling and his eyes are moist. I should stop, but I don't.

"Maybe your dream told you that we have to let go?" I press on. " _My_ dream didn't tell me that. _My_ dream told me how you would go to any length to protect me. _My_ dream told me that we're stronger together than we are apart. Like it or not, this life is our fate — our destiny. There's no quitting."

"No." Dean's voice is soft.

"Sam!" Cas is more firm now. "Stop."

"It was never our _destiny._ " Deans says the word as if it leaves a bitter taste. "It was our choice. Dad's choice. Ultimately _my_ choice. And I pulled you back in it every time." Dean also seems to be ignoring Cas, though his voice is quiet and he had retreated further from me.

My voice is a little too loud and much too belligerent. And he shrinks away at my next comment.

"We've both tried to have a normal life, Dean. There's no way out."

Cas suddenly pushes me from Dean and stands between us. In his calm, commanding voice, he appeals to me again. "Stop. Please."

And I realize what I have been doing to my brother. Though I've noticed his distress, I had not noticed my own. And I kept pushing. This isn't about Dean, it's been about me. I was badgering him when he isn't ready to hunt because I'm anxious to stop Rowena. I feel the weight of everything I've done, and this vacation — if I dare call it that — hasn't changed that. How Dean and I have grown closer while we've been here hasn't changed that. That I'm having this wild, passionate affair with a woman I barely know hasn't changed it. And that Dean looks like he would fall apart without me can't change that.

Everything I've done, I would do it all again — and more — to save my brother. But that doesn't release me from the consequences. The things I've been researching about Rowena haven't been good. The longer she has the Book of the Damned, the more difficult she will be to defeat.

But I was wrong to put all of that on Dean. I nod at Cas and he moves aside for me to face my brother again.

"I'm sorry," I say as I step closer to him.

He shakes it off but he won't look at me. "No, it's okay."

I tilt my head to try to catch his eyes. I need him to hear this. "You're right. You do have a choice. I understand. You've been through too much to go back to hunting now. Maybe you'll never go back. That's okay."

"And you?" His brow is creased with worry when he finally faces me.

I see now that my brother is broken in a way that he may never be mended. Still, I can't hide my intentions from him anymore. "Eventually, I'll have to go back. I have to take out Rowena. Whatever she's doing now is my fault."

That admission from me — that I will go back to hunting — looks like it is actually crushing him. His shoulders sink into his body and his eyes fill with tears. He rubs the spot on his arm that used to hold the Mark of Cain.

"But not right now," I emphasize. He nods but he's shutting down. Maybe that's better than when he was collapsing on the floor in pain or puking his guts out. But I'm not sure. A glance to Cas tells me I have every reason to be concerned.

"Hey," I move even closer and grab his neck so he'll look at me and hear what I'm saying. I can tell that he wants to get away from what he's feeling but I won't let him. "We're going to get through this. You're going to be okay. And as long as you need me, I will be here. After Rowena is taken care of, I'll quit. If that's still what you want. I'll give up hunting, too."

Dean shakes his head as he blinks away the tears. "If you take on Rowena, you won't have a chance to give up hunting."

He says that as if he already knows what will happen. Something inside me tells me that he may be right.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Sam and Dean appear to be at an impasse. Something has to happen to break that stalemate. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

 **Girl** **Interrupted**

These brothers may very well be the death of me. I want more than anything to protect them. I want Dean's soul to heal and I want Rowena to be terminated so Sam can finally have peace of mind. I just hope the angels can apprehend her before Sam feels he has to.

I don't know how a conversation about Sam's affair with the woman in the bar leads to such an agonizing conversation between the brothers. Dean is terrified. Sam is guilt-ridden. I don't know if there is an answer to this that will save them both.

Dean wants so much for Sam to be okay, he seems to believe that this affair Sam is having is something more than it is. I've sensed Sam's thoughts on this woman. He does care about her, but he has no intention of letting it go further. Although, I also think that Dean is correct in believing that it could go further if Sam would let it.

It's been a few days since Sam has spent time with the girl. He's been glued to Dean's side since their argument. Despite Dean's protests, Sam refuses to call her.

"I'm fine," Deans insists. "I appreciate what you're doing, but it's not necessary. Go have some fun."

"Maybe tomorrow," Sam answers, not committing either way.

To make matters worse, angel radio is very active today. Something is going on, but I can't quite decipher what is happening. My connection to the Heaven and the angels has been muffled. Joshua said it was necessary to keep the Winchesters safe so someone rogue angel could not get access to the brothers through me.

Dean lets out a frustrated growl at his brother and grabs a towel before heading to the beach. I've noticed that the waves have a calming effect on him. So when he leaves, Sam and I both let him go alone. Of course, we both keep watch on him as he pulls off his t-shirt and plops directly on the sand.

"He's troubled," I say to Sam.

"I know."

"So are you."

Sam blows out a long breath. "I don't know what to do now. Every part of me tells me that I need to stop Rowena. I gave her access to the Book of the Damned. I need to take it away from her. But I know that I can't leave Dean. He's needs me too much right now."

"You know he still has a lot of nightmares," I reveal, because Dean does need him. And Rowena is top priority in Heaven.

"Really?" Sam looks at me with deep lines creasing his brow. "I thought they weren't as bad."

"He rarely cries out anymore," I confirm.

Another deep sigh escape Sam's lips. "I just want him to be okay. You know?"

I nod as I state what should be obvious to Sam. "That's what he wants for you."

xxxxxXxxxxx

Sam chose to meet Rachel at the bar down the beach, I think mostly to make Dean feel better. Meanwhile, I promise to stay with Dean. I choose to be visible as I approach him on the beach and lower myself on the sand beside him.

He keeps his view forward as I sit. "Where's Sam?"

"He decided to take your advice and see Rachel."

He snaps his head toward me. "He did? Huh." He smiles faintly. "Good."

"You promised each other to be honest," I accuse.

"I have been," Dean insists. "I haven't lied to him since we've been here."

"But you haven't been forthcoming about your nightmares."

Dean tenses because I have just confirmed what he's suspected — that I've been watching him as he sleeps.

"It's creepy," he complains. "You watching me all the freaking time."

I shrug because I will continue to watch him until he's better, but I am pleased that his complaints sound like the old Dean.

After a long silence, he says something I don't expect.

"Thank you."

I tilt my head as I peer at my friend. "For what?"

He's quiet for another moment because it's difficult for Dean to admit that he's vulnerable. "I've been trying so damned hard to beat this thing. And I think maybe I can until one of those nightmares knocks me off course."

He looks at me with his eyes squinting against the setting sun. His lips are pressed together and I can tell he wants to say more. So I wait until he's ready to speak again.

"Everybody dies," he says finally. "Except for me."

"In your nightmares?"

He nod. "I've seen people I've already lost die all over again. I've seen you die dozens of ways, and Sam …. He dies countless times in a hundred different ways in my nightmares. Sometimes its Rowena. Sometimes it's something or someone else. He dies horribly over and over again. And I just can't …."

His voice breaks and he's quiet, unable to finish his thought.

"Dean …." I want to say something that will ease his pain, but I don't know what would help.

"So thank you," he says, interrupting me. "For being here. It's helps."

I could tell him that I would do anything for him and Sam. That they've been my family since I fell from Heaven. But Dean is already uncomfortable so I just say, "You're welcome."

He dips his head in acknowledgement and pushes off the ground. "It'll be dark soon and I didn't bring beer," he announces as a way to break the moment, "so we'd better head inside."

As we walk to the house, I think he still is uneasy because he's chatting about insignificant things, like the brand of beer I buy for them. And how the sand seems to get into every crevice of his body.

"How is it that you have no sand on you?" he asks as we step into the house.

"The same reason I never need to shower."

"So it's an angel thing," he surmises, indifferent to my explanation because he just wanted to fill the silence.

"I could clean the sand off for you if you like," I offer.

His posture tenses as he points a finger at me. "Don't even think about it."

I allow myself a half smile because I expected him to say that, but it fades quickly as my attention is drawn into the darkened room. I see a figure standing in the dull light. I know instantly who it is.

My eyes move from the figure to the couch, where Sam is lying unconscious.

"Dean," I command. "Check on your brother."

It takes Dean a moment to register what's happening. He follows my vision to the unknown figure then to his brother.

"Sam," he calls as he runs to him. I dare not take my eyes off the figure before me, though I can see in my peripheral vision that Dean checks for a pulse and finds one.

"Sam is fine," the woman says. At least the vessel is a woman. I wave my hand until light floods the room. "He's just sleeping."

"Rachel?" I hear Dean call her name. "What the hell …?"

"It's not Rachel," I say, moving to stand between the woman and the Winchester brothers. "Not at the moment."

"What is she?" Dean demands to know. I ignore him to deal with the angel in our midst.

"Mariah, what are you doing here?" My angel blade drops from my sleeve to my hand, ready to kill another of my kind if that's what it takes to protect my friends.

Mariah notices my movement and nods toward the weapon in my hand. "That won't be necessary, Castiel. I'm not here to hurt anyone."

"She's possessed?" The slight quiver in his voice is the only sign of his apprehension. By the position of his voice, I can tell he's standing now, though he doesn't move from Sam's side. "I thought you said she was okay. An ordinary human."

"She was," I answer Dean, still not taking my eyes off of Mariah. To the angel, I have another question. "She let you in?"

"Yes, she did," the woman answers calmly. "I told her I could save her boyfriend if she would let me. I had to wait a couple of days. Who knew that I would possess her just as Sam started to lose interest in her?"

Cas …." I can hear Dean moving closer as he says my name. I can also sense his anxiety, though I try to push it away. I cannot afford to lose focus now.

"Stay back," I order. To my relief, he does. I hold my position as Mariah moves closer to me. I raise my blade toward her. "That's far enough."

"Castiel," she says. "We need to talk."

"Why are you here?" I ask, but blade readied just in case. But her response prompts me to lower the weapon.

"Hannah sent me."

xxxxxXxxxxx

I order Dean to stay with Sam while I speak with Mariah. I don't have time for persuasion, so I don't offer him a choice. The old Dean would have stepped in, demanded answers. Perhaps used my angel blade on her himself. This Dean has lost his confidence. Though that saddens me, I am grateful at the moment. Anything other than his obedience would distract me.

I lead Mariah away a few feet from the brothers as I keep my defensive stance. "Why would Hannah send you?"

Hannah and I became very close as my borrowed grace was waning. She chose to release her vessel and go back to Heaven. I hear she has done a very good job of keeping order. After freeing Metatron, I could not return to Heaven, but I believe would still be a friend. If she had something to tell me, why would she send someone else — especially Mariah? I voice that question to the angel before me.

"She can't get away. Much is happening in Heaven," Mariah explains. "She said you cannot send you information from angel radio because your connection has been silenced."

I don't answer because no one but Joshua should have known that. And it hasn't been completely silenced, though it might as well been. For the past day, I've only been hearing mostly static.

"I know you don't trust me after what happened, Castiel. But the truth is I still care about you very much. That's why Hannah sent me."

"You betrayed me before. I need to know you will not again," I say. My meaning is clear. I am asking her to let me search her mind. However, Mariah is a powerful angel, and she could read mine as I read hers. As I watch her, I try to decide if it is worth the risk. I would feel it if she tried and I could break the connection before she gains any damaging information. At least I think I could.

"You may if you feel it necessary, Castiel," she agrees flirtatiously.

I watch the angel for a long moment weighing my options.

"Dean, there is another blade in Sam's room. Please, get it," I order still watching Mariah. There is a risk that she will overpower me while I am searching her thoughts. I need someone to back me up. I can only hope that he is up to the challenge. Even touching kitchen knife has sent him into a tailspin. I worry what the angel blade could do to him, but I have no choice.

I take the chance and look to him briefly. "Can you do it?"

Though he hesitates, he looks down at his brother and nods. He's back quickly and resumes he place by Sam, the blade readied in his hand.

As I touch Mariah's head, our eyes lock. She makes no attempt to penetrate my mind. What I see is disturbing, but it also explains why Hannah would send someone. It could also explain why she would send this angel. Mariah always was a nonconformist, and spent some time in Heaven's prison for her rebellion. I let her out after the apocalypse was halted. At the time, I had sympathy for angels who had exhibited free will. I felt Mariah deserved another chance.

Eventually, she used that free will to betray me by giving Raphael some important information. It was one of the reasons I went through the ill-fated decision to open the gate to purgatory and inhale all those souls. I thought I had a loyal friend, but I had been mistaken.

Mariah is now giving me access to not only the reason she has been sent to me, but the reason she betrayed me in the first place. Though I know I should not, I keep reaching into her mind until I have the full story. And she allows me this.

I remove my hand and continue to stare into her eyes.

"I wanted your attention," she offers as explanation, "but you just never felt the same way. Hannah and I have that in common. That's why she chose me to come."

I'm not sure what to say that. The truth is I did have some of the feelings for her that she had for me, but I was in the midst of a mission then. As I was when Hannah and I were together. As I am now.

"I promise I won't betray you again," she tells me.

"What about Rachel?" I saw that Mariah plans to remain on Earth, but she will need a vessel to do so. I won't let her take over an innocent woman's body.

"I have a lovely vessel picked out," she tells me with a smile tugging at her lips. "She's a young woman who's dying of cancer. As long as she gets her Heavenly paradise, she's happy to let me keep her vessel. Hannah was very specific that I cannot destroy a person's life for this."

"Thank you for the information, Mariah."

She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I look at her with surprise and am met with another kiss on the lips. "You're missing out Cas," she teases. I catch Rachel in my arms as Mariah's grace slips away.

xxxxxXxxxxx

My heart completely stopped for a second when I saw that figure standing in the beach house — what was supposed to be a safe house. My knees buckled when I saw Sam lying unconscious on the couch. It's only been a few months since I last hunted, but it feels like years. For the first time, I regret being so rusty.

When Cas tells me to check on him, I know it's as much about getting me out of the way as it is about making sure Sam is okay. At that moment, I was more concerned about my brother than the fact that I'd lost the ability to do the only thing I was good at — fighting.

Though I can see a woman standing in the darkened room, I ignore her until I can make sure Sam is alive. I breathe again when I feel is pulse is strong and steady. I know beyond a doubt that if anything happens to Sam, I will not survive it. I would have no reason to keep fighting.

He's been watching out for me for the couple few months — and long before that. All those years I looked out for him, protected him, saved him, I thought he needed me. And maybe he did, but the truth is that I needed him more.

I look up in time to see Cas wave his hand to fill the room with light, revealing that the woman is Rachel. I don't know whether to be relieved or concerned. Cas answers that question for me when he says she's not Rachel. Another piece falls into place. She's been possessed. My heart is racing now as I struggle to make sure I don't fall into another panic attack. I haven't had one in weeks, but I can feel it coming on.

I manage to push it down because I know that I have to protect my brother. I stand and move toward whatever this thing is. Angel. Demon. Maybe even a reaper. I don't know and I don't care. But she will have to come through me to get to Sam.

"Stay back," Cas orders. He voice is unyielding, and considering my hand is trembling and I feel like I'm about to lose my lunch, I listen. I can't do anything for Sam if I become sniveling mess. When Cas asks me to get the other angel blade, I know the time for me being a bystander is over.

I've figured out now that the woman is an angel, and Cas has a past with her. Again, I don't know whether that's good or bad. Nor does Cas, apparently. I can see, however, that they have a connection.

When she leaves Rachel's body, I drop the angel blade, which felt like hot lead in my hand, and turn my attention back to my brother."

"Sam," I call out, shaking his shoulders, gently at first then more firmly. I look to Cas for help, but he's with Rachel. He's lifts her unconscious body and places her gently into a chair.

"Is she …?"

"Alive," Cas confirms. "She'll be out for a bit. Having Mariah as a host probably has been similar to riding the tail end of a comet for Rachel."

He says that as if he's ridden a comet. Or perhaps his observation is based on his past experience with that particular angel.

Either way, that analogy makes me more nervous at not being able to wake up my brother. "Sam. Come on man," I say, patting his face lightly. I'm considering a good, hard bitch slap at this point. "Wake up, buddy."

When I still get no response, I look to Cas again. "What did she do to him?" I'm aware that my voice sounds like its on the verge of panic.

Cas touches Sam's forehead and shakes his head. "She always chooses the more complicated way to do anything."

"Complicated? What the hell does that mean?" I wish I had taken that angel blade and ripped Mariah apart with it.

"She didn't just make him sleep. It's more like he's been sedated."

"What? Like an angel roofie?"

"I don't know that means, but he'll be fine."

I grumble and continue the task of waking up my brother. I pat his cheeks more and call his name louder. Cas scrutinizes me for a moment and decides to help me along by pacing two fingers on his head. The touch does the trick as Sam mumbles and opens his eyes, though he's still groggy.

He struggles to sit, so I help him up, then I catch him as his wobbly body nearly falls off the couch. "Cas, he's still …" I start, but my words are cut off when I notice that Cas is nervously scanning the room.

"What is it?" I ask as I hold my brother who has slumped against me.

"I'm not sure," he answers. His eyes land on Sam and touches his head again, making him immediately more alert.

"We don't have time for him to sleep it off," Cas explains. "I'll be back," he adds just before he disappears, leaving me to make explanations to my brother. The trouble is I don't know what the hell is going on.

xxxxxXxxxxx

"An angel possessed her?" Sam clarifies, his eyes wide as he checks on his girlfriend. "For how long?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "Cas didn't exactly keep me in the loop, but I think she was possessed after the last time you saw her and before tonight."

Sam releases a shaky breath, and I'm sure he's thinking how creepy it would be to have sex with an angel. Though I've done it and it's not so bad. Though technically, Anna wasn't an angel at the time. But I have to wonder about Sam and Rachel.

"Did you two …?" It should have been an awkward question, I suppose, but after everything that has happened it seemed a prudent one to ask.

"Tonight? No," he answers quickly. "She convinced me to come back here to spend one last night together. She knew that I was worried about you." He swipes his hair from his face as he processes what's happened. "Damn it. I let her talk me into it. I knew better than to bring an outsider back here."

He stands nervously swipes at his hair again. "I was so stupid."

"It's okay, Sam."

"No it's not, Dean. I put you and Cas in danger."

"I don't think she's dangerous," I say to calm him. Both of us can't be wrecks right now and I have the corner on that market. "She apparently had a message for Casanova."

"What?" He shakes his head in confusion.

"The angel, she had a message for Cas. And apparently she had a thing for him once. And she said she was sent by the other angel who had a thing for him."

Sam looks at me as if I've just lost my mind. That ship had sailed months ago. But explaining what happened was proving to be a challenge.

"Who knew, right? The ladies in Heaven seem to like the guy." I attempt a chuckle, but Sam isn't smiling.

"Dean …."

I clear my throat as if that will dissolve the awkwardness. "Okay, look. I heard her say that Hannah sent her. Cas was less than thrilled. He was on guard, and asked me to get an angel blade," I say nodding to the blade on the floor.

"And you did?"

"And I did." I had to protect my brother, but those words didn't pass my lips. I also don't bother to mention that it took everything in me just to stand there without falling apart.

He pats my shoulder as it simply holding a blade is a good thing. I think it's pathetic. But I don't want to elaborate on how far I've fallen for him to proud of that, so I do my best to tell him the rest of what I know. Which isn't much. He read her mind, she kissed him and she left Rachel's body.

"He seemed anxious when he left," I add.

"And you don't know where he went."

"Not a clue."

Our conversation is cut short by Rachel's moaning. Sam kneels by her and puts his hand to her cheek while she opens her eyes. "Hey," he says, his voice so gentle that I know I'm right about how he feels about her.

He talks to her quietly, asking if she's okay and if she remembers anything. I feel like I'm intruding, but I need to know what happened as well. So I stand a couple of feet away while she answers his questions. I learn that he didn't call her, but she called him. She was planning to leave soon and she wanted to see him once more, telling him how much he helped her and she's ready to get back to real life.

I learn that the angel Mariah approached her and asked to occupy her vessel to save Sam and me. She didn't know why we were in danger but she believed the angel. "Sam, she said Cas is an angel, too. Is that true?"

"Yeah," he admits.

"What are you two involved in that you need an angel for protection?"

Sam is evasive. "It's a long story, and it's not one I can really go into."

"Did the angel who possessed me help?"

"She knocked me out so I don't know," Sam answers. "But I think so." He needs to be vague because we still don't know if Mariah was telling the truth or if she was using Rachel to get to us. And since Cas is still not back, I'm leaning toward Mariah being a bad guy. I know that look on Sam's face, and he agrees. But he obviously doesn't want to tell her that.

He apologizes for not calling her and she says she understands that he needs to take care of me. I squeeze my eyes closed and back away more. The last thing I want to hear is that Sam put his life on hold for me again.

"That's what I care about you so much. How much you want to take care of your brother," she says.

He glances back at me only momentarily before he answers. "You have no idea how much he's done for me."

"I know," she smiles. Having gotten all the information she has to give, Sam pulls her into a hug and holds her for a long time. I look at them only briefly, not wanting to intrude on their moment. But something is off. I can't figure out what it is.

I know my gut — my instinct — is way off since the Mark was removed. And what I'm feeling probably is my anxiety rearing its ugly head again. The thought of Sam being in danger is enough to heighten my apprehension. I _cannot_ trust my feelings on this. Still.

I look at Sam and Rachel again. It's only a flash of something I see and perhaps it's only in my pathetically screwed up head. Hell, this may even be a hallucination. It's something about her eyes. If it's imagined, it's having a similar effect on me as my previous episodes. My heart is racing and my stomach is churning. And it occurs to me that one of my nightmares of Sam dying involves a woman plunging a knife into his back.

Was it this woman? Was it a prophetic vision or simply my fears coming to life in my imagination? I can't trust my senses anymore. I can't trust how I feel. But I also can't take any chances — not with my brother. I eye the angel blade near the couch and make a casual attempt to pick it up without being noticed by Rachel or even Sam. I don't need him questioning me right now. I curse to myself that I'm wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. There isn't much room to hide a blade so I put in in the back of my waistband. It's uncomfortable as hell, but it'll have to do.

I know Cas was very thorough in setting up the safe house. He put bottles of holy water all over the house. One in particular I know of is in the kitchen. I pour some in a glass and add ice. I offer it to Rachel.

"I thought you might like …." I start, letting the glass in my hand speak for itself. Sam backs away and allows her to take it.

"Thanks, Dean," she beams at me almost too sweetly.

I force a smile and I hold my breath as she drinks.


	13. Chapter 13

**Two Out of Three Ain't Bad**

I don't understand what's happening. Dean tells me that Rachel had been possessed by an angel who had a message for Cas. Then before me, I see evidence that I've been sleeping with a demon. Again. Except this time, I didn't know. I fall back onto the floor from where I was kneeling in front of her — in shock as a sip of water causes Rachel to spew and spit steam. I'd know the signs of a demon with holy water anywhere.

My head is spinning as water splashes from behind me and soaks Rachel, more steam and more screams follow.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus …," I hear Dean yelling the spell. He's trying his best to get the words out. Rachel — or at least the demon that's possessing her — is growling and screaming as he continues to douse her with holy water.

And I'm frozen in place.

Dean is only half way through the exorcism when he runs out of the water. He has the angel blade in his hand ready to use if he can't expel the demon, but I think he's trying to save Rachel.

Without the sizzle of the holy water, the demon gains control and propels Dean across the room. The blade is knocked from his hand and he's glued to a wall unable to move. But he keeps shouting.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, …." She's twisting her hand causing him to scream in pain. So I pull myself together and continue with the spell.

"…domine ut ecclesiam tuam …." I manage to almost finish the exorcism before she renders me speechless by some piece of magic.

"… secura tibi tri …," Dean cries out, though haltingly. His pain must be overwhelming as he starts to spit out blood.

Though he's trying, Dean can't get words out as he coughs up blood, and I still can't speak at all. As I beginning to think we're screwed, we hear a low rumble in the foundation of the house. The air around us feels electrically charged as lights flicker and the house begins to shake with such ferocity that pictures fly off the wall and dishes from the cabinets. The demon ceases her torture as her anxious eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the quake.

A light so bright fills the room that Dean and I must hide our eyes. Before Dean can finish the incantation, and before the demon can kill either one of us, it smokes out and disappears.

When the light fades and the convulsions ease, Cas is standing amidst the debris with a look of rage on his face, a white fog circling him and the shadow of his massive wings splayed across the walls. He's back in his suit and trench coat, holding an angel blade and he looks like a warrior ready for battle. If I didn't know him to be our friend, I would be terrified at the sight.

The rest of us lay crumpled on the floor. I look back toward Dean and see him move but not trying to stand. Then I look in the other direction toward Rachel and see that she is lying still – perhaps lifeless. I don't know if I had been with the real woman. It's possible I only had been with the demon or the angel for even both. And I wonder how a demon could occupy her body without the angel knowing. Or maybe the angel did know.

"Dean," I call out as I try to rise, but I end up succumbing to the heaviness in my body and sink back to the floor.

"I'm okay," he chokes out, but his wraps his arms around his abdomen and groans. He doesn't sound okay at all.

Cas pulls me to my feet. "Help your brother," he commands. "I must get you out of here now!"

He doesn't explain where he's been and or what has happened, but I can see in his face that it's bad.

I stagger Dean and put his arm around my shoulder so I can pull him up. He must be badly injured because his weight is heavy against me.

"You okay, buddy?"

"I'm fantastic," he says with his signature sarcasm.

Cas frowns as his hand covers Rachel's head, but he leaves her on the floor as he hurries to us and places one hand on my head and one on Dean's. "I'm sending you home."

"What about you? And what about her?" I ask nodding to Rachel.

"I'll take her somewhere safe and I'll join you."

Before I can argue, Dean and I are back in the bunker.

xxxxxXxxxxx 

Dean is moaning, his body pitching towards me as I struggle to get my bearings in this new location. Being teleported isn't fun on a good day, and today's not a good day.

Before my knees give way, I help my brother into a chair so I can find out how badly he's hurt. He's still insisting that he's okay.

"Damn it, Dean," I snap. His t-shirt is saturated in blood. "Let me help you."

He puts a hand on my shoulder as I kneel in front of him. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

I know he's not talking about being a difficult patient. "How did you know?"

He's shrugs. "I don't know. Just a hunch. Something about her seemed off. I figured demon or witch. Hell, maybe both."

That he still had his hunter's gut instinct is the most promising sign yet that he's getting better. It almost becomes one of those moments that Dean prefers to avoid as I clutch his neck. "You did good, man."

He attempts a faint smile and then groans. "The bitch nearly ripped out my insides."

"When Cas gets back, he can fix you."

"I wouldn't say no to that."

When Cas does return to the bunker, and he looks like hell. I want to ask about Rachel, but first things first.

"Dean needs help," I blurt out. Without comment, Cas follows my motion toward Dean and touches his forehead. My brother flinches at the pain before his expression eases. The angel then reaches for me.

"I'm fine," I protest.

"Shut up and be still," he orders. Dean and I are both taken aback not only his abrupt tone but his harsh demeanor. As he touches me, I realize how much better I feel. In the heat of the moment, I had not realized that I had been hurt as well.

"Are _you_ okay?" Dean asks, surveying the angel who looks worse for the wear in his rumpled trench coat.

"Physically, yes," he answers, but he shakes his head as he says it.

As much as I want to know what happened to Cas, there's something I need to know first. "Rachel?"

"She will be fine. Fortunately, she was still unconscious when I returned her to her hotel."

"Was I ever with the real Rachel?"

"She was a normal human woman when you met her. I don't know when she was possessed by the demon or how I failed to recognized the demon when I spoke to Mariah." Again, his head bobs in regret. "I read her mind and I saw no sign …. I'm sorry, Sam."

"It's not your fault," I assure him. I'm grateful that at least Rachel was human when she and I were together. I don't think I could face my brother if I had slept with a demon again. I know this was different. I knew what Ruby was when I was with her, but it's still a betrayal to Dean that I didn't want to repeat. "You're sure she's okay now?"

"I erased her memory of what happened tonight," Cas answers, avoiding eye contact and acting distracted. "She will not remember being possessed by the angel or the demon."

I realize only one thing will make her truly okay. "Did you make her forget me, too?"

He lifts his head and sighs. "No."

"Well, you should have." My tone is more cutting than it should have been. I know how much Cas has done for us and I know he saved our asses back there. But I realize how right Dean was all those years ago when he asked Cas to wipe memories from Lisa and Ben. Becoming involved with us is a deadly mistake.

Cas, however, isn't in the mood for self-pity. "No, Sam. I should _not_ have," he snaps. "This is bigger than you or Dean or Rachel."

That comment gets our attention but he doesn't give us a chance to ask him what he means before he launches in a diatribe.

"You two seem to underestimate your value to other people and to the world. Do you think wiping the memories of people you care about will help their lives at all?" The angel's agitation is apparent and his healthy dose of patience has run out. "Your relationship with Rachel helped her realize that she can move on from what happened to her. She knew it was just a fling, and she knew it would end. She'll wake up in the morning and believe that she had one last night with you before she goes home to face the problems in her real life. And she'll go back believing that she can handle those problems thanks to you. That's the memory I left for her. And she's all the better for knowing you."

"Cas …." I'm not even sure how to respond. I appreciate what he's saying but it troubles me that my relationship with her put her in danger. And there's still the question of what happened to Cas and why he's so disturbed now.

"And you," his eyes narrow at Dean.

"What did I do?" he asks, his voice rising a pitch. "I was all for Sam and Rachel — the human Rachel — having their fun."

"I know what you're thinking," Cas accuses. "You've been thinking that Sam and I would be better off without you — what you think is an inferior version of yourself. You believe that you've been a failure only because you needed time to get better. A lesser person would have never survived what you've been through. And you managed to overcome your fears to sense something that I failed to …."

Cas stops his rant and catches himself from saying something that he doesn't want to say out loud.

Dean pales accusation but watches the angel's face for a moment before he responds. "What happened, Cas? This isn't about me or Sam, is it? Where did you go after Mariah left?"

Cas turns away from us, a mournful expression filling his features. But he's not saying what's troubling him.

"Talk to us, man," Dean pushes.

When he refuses to face us, we position ourselves around him so we can see him. His eyes are weary. I know he's been carrying a heavy load since he's been looking after us and his slumped stature highlights the weight that he can no longer hide. When he begins to speak, his words drift out hesitantly.

"God gave me two assignments," he utters out haltingly, almost painfully. "And I saw them as my chance for redemption. After what I had done after I sucked in all those souls from purgatory …."

"Cas, that's ancient history," I point out. "We've all done things that we regret."

"The point is that God gave me another chance," he thumps his chest with his fist. "I failed with first assignment when Rowena got away. I was supposed to kill her but she already was too strong."

"Rowena is _my_ fault," I speak up, refusing to let Cas shoulder something that is not his to carry.

"Sam, don't you see that it was _my_ job to terminate her. It doesn't matter what you did. It only matters that I couldn't fulfill my duty. And because I couldn't, many people and several angels have died, and you two are in jeopardy."

Dean shifts and looks aways when Cas mentions how Rowena has harmed so many people. I can guess what he's thinking. He believes he has prevented me and Cas from going after Rowena. And it's true. I would have hunted her weeks ago if I didn't have a higher responsibility for Dean.

"And I almost failed in keeping you safe … again," Cas continues as his pained eyes travel from me to Dean. "As your friend, I would have done anything protect you. As an angel, it is more than that. It is my mission as part of a greater plan."

"Why?" a quiet Dean decides to speak up. "Why are we so important that we deserved your full-time attention? Don't get me wrong, man. I've told you before that I couldn't have made it this far without you, but I didn't deserve it. I still don't. But Sam …."

His comment jolts me and I interrupt him before he can finish. "Don't," I spit out. "Don't you dare say that I deserve to be protected but you don't."

All of this is becoming too much. I pushed down every fear, every regret to see my brother through this. I tell myself that everything I've done can be fixed and it was worth it because I wanted to save him. Months later, he's still saying he shouldn't have been saved and the problems I've caused are escalating. My voice wavers. "Just don't do that."

The quiver in his chin is almost imperceptible as he drops his head. I wasn't trying to upset him, and I my mouth hangs open to apologize, but he shakes it off and looks back to Cas. As much as I regret my outburst, finding out what happened at the beach house trumps the issues Dean and I have, so I let it go and press the angel for more information.

"I get it Cas. Guilt is a difficult thing to get past. I've been there." Waving my thumb at Dean, I add, "We both have. And I get how grateful you must have been for a second chance. I do. Because I've had my share of second chances and I will always be thankful for that. But right now, we need to know what happened. Was it Mariah? Did she betray you?"

With just three words, Cas reveals the source of his anger and distress.

"Mariah is dead."


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Though the Winchesters have escaped one attack, the forces after them are finally catching up. Once they learn how bad it is, the brothers have to decide whether it's time to return to hunting to take out Rowena.**

* * *

 **Into the Fire**

The tension between the three of us in palpable. We're all on edge. We all have a massive amount of guilt that is weighing on us. We all feel we've let someone – or many someones – down. We're chiding each other for all the self-blame we put on ourselves. We're a mess. But we're family, so we bark and bite at each other. Yet at the end of the day, we'll still standing because of each other.

Meanwhile, my heart is racing and my stomach is in knots but I'm pushing through it because Cas and Sam have pulled me through a bunch of crap to get me better. I've been a self-centered disaster waiting to happen since I awoke from that coma that I haven't noticed what my brother and my friend have been shouldering for me.

I know that the time for self-pity is over. They need me. The least I can do is pull myself together and fight that evil bitch. So I tell them that I need a shower to get all the blood and sand off. They don't question it when it takes me more than my usual 10 minutes. They're still giving me a bunch of latitude. I'm sure they are questioning whether I can do what we have to do. I'm not even sure that I can.

I actually spend about 5 minutes in the shower. I find a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt and my boots. I pause in front of the faded mirror in my room. I don't recognize myself. I have a dark tan from all those days on the beach but I look anything but rested. I could use a shave but I don't bother. My jeans are loose, but a belt and perhaps a few cheeseburgers will take care of that. I take a deep breath and pick up my favorite pistol, taking a moment to get use it in my hand again.

I ignore my thumping heart as walk down the corridor of the bunker to the shooting range. When I fire the first shot, the tremble in my hand causes it to hit the stone wall a foot away from the target.

I hold my breath as press the trigger again. This time, I hit the edge of figure that I'm supposed to hit.

Okay. That's progress, I guess. The last time I shot like that, I was about 10 and getting hell for it from Dad.

I wonder what he would think of me now — not able to hit the broad side of … well, anything. And falling apart like I did when the Mark was removed … that wouldn't cut it with him either. Walk it off, he'd say. People need saving and I need to get off my ass and help.

I can feel him standing behind me, chiding me. Pushing me to do better. I dare not look because I'm afraid I'll actually see him there, looking disappointed.

 _"You're supposed to watch out for Sammy, son. You're letting him do all the heavy lifting."_

 _"He's strong, Dad. He can handle anything."_

 _"But you're supposed to handle it, Dean."_

 _"I know, Dad. I'm sorry."_

And I am sorry. I pinch my eyes closed and try to push his voice from my head. Raising the pistol again, I have to use both hands to hold the damn thing steady. I blow out another long breath and take aim when the figure in the target becomes my brother. I know it's not real but it's an effective deterrent to keep me from firing. I drop my head and lower the weapon, hoping the image of Sam will disappear, but it doesn't.

How in the hell am I supposed to do this?

"What do you see?"

I freakin' jump out of my skin when I hear Sam's voice behind me. I don't turn around when I answer. The truth is best, I decide. "You."

"It's not me. I'm right here," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Try again."

I close my eyes again and raise my gun. When I open them, I still see Sam, but I fire anyway until the clip is empty. With each shot, the image of Sam is fades more until all that is left is a bullet-ridden target. Each shot hit the mark.

I let out a long breath as I keep my eyes on the target, allowing only a hint of a smile to cross my face.

Sam gives my back a hearty pat. "Good job." He starts to walk away when he adds, "Come on. We've got work to do."

xxxxxXxxxxx

When Cas finishes his story we're all quiet, stunned by how bad it's gotten. Even Dean knows we can't sit back any longer and let Rowena have the upper hand. The witch had been using any method at her disposal to get to Dean and me. Since she has the Book of the Damned, her methods have been ruthless.

Dean announces that he needs a shower before we do anything else, and he really does. The blood on his clothes smells rancid and he still has sand in his hair. I recognize the signs that Dean is beginning to push down what he feels so he can get the job done. I can't decide whether that's good or bad. Either way, he needs solitude so he can prepare himself for what's about to happen.

When he walks away, Cas tells me that he's going to Heaven to talk to Hannah and find out if she knows Rowena's location. I ask if he can trust Hannah. He says she's the only angel he can trust.

He pops out and I head to take a shower and change into my hunting clothes. Everything fits the same and when I look at myself in the mirror, I know this is right. I feel better than I have in a while because I finally can do something about Rowena.

As troubled as I am about what's been happening while we were away, I know Dean needed that time at the island. He may not be completely back, but he's better. I hope he's ready for what's sure to be a hell of a battle.

When I walk into the corridor, I stop dead as I hear gunshots coming from the indoor shooting range — just a two shots followed by complete silence. My stomach drops, afraid for what Dean is up to. Part of me feels that he wouldn't do something to himself _now_. We need him too much. But a part of me remembers what Cas said – that he thinks we'd be better off without him. It's with a sense of panic that I rush to the shooting range.

I finding him standing — thank God — in front of a target with his pistol down and his eyes closed. I can see that the shots he's taken have missed badly. And it occurs to me that he's not seeing a generic target.

"What do you see?" I ask him. He jumps at the sound of my voice and he sounds hoarse when he answers.

"You."

"It's not me," I assure him, and prove it by placing my hand on his shoulder. "I'm right here. Try again."

He winces with each round he fires, but he doesn't stop until the bullets are gone. Every one hits the mark, and a look of satisfaction crosses his face. It's quite an accomplishment considering what he's been through, and I want to hug him and tell him I'm proud that he kept fighting. But we're getting ready for battle, so I do the next best thing. I clap him hard on the back and tell him we have work to do.

xxxxxXxxxxx

I am taking a risk by going to Heaven to see Hannah. I considered going to Joshua, but I know Hannah will tell me what I need to know. I suspect that Joshua would only speak to me in parables. He always seems to have a lesson for me to learn. I have come to realize that the mission to keep the Winchesters safe was as much about me as it was about them.

I find the doorway to Heaven easily enough even though it has been moved since I kidnapped Metatron. It is the only way I know to enter without Joshua's help. I hope that Hannah still sees me as a friend but the angels who guard the portal undoubtedly will not. I see no other recourse after what's happened. I am grieving and I feel broken by the events this evening. But I press on because I must.

When Mariah kissed me, I knew it changed something in her. I didn't understand what and I certainly didn't understand how. The truth is far worse than what I ever could have imagined.

After she left, the static on angel radio cleared and I heard the bits of a discussion about Mariah and Rowena and a demon. Even more troubling was the mention of Claire Novak. I had to find out what was happening.

I believed the danger at the beach house was over, but I made sure Sam was awake and alert in case something went wrong. Then I went to find Mariah. She had made it only as far as the beach, her grace fading away.

She told me that Hannah did send her, and that it took a few days to track me down. Before she could reach me, Rowena found her. With a spell from the Book of the Damned, she was linked to a demon and was forced into Rachel as a way to get to Sam.

The demon took control of not only of the girl but also of Mariah, planting the message that the angel battalion had located Rowena and needed assistance to capture her. She revealed details about the witch using human souls to build an army. I saw this information when I read her mind. Though I was skeptical of Mariah's loyalty, I had no reason to believe that I would gain fraudulent information by reading her mind.

The real message sent by Hannah was lost to her when she was bound to the demon. The only thing Mariah could tell me was that all of this was to draw my out and to trap the Winchesters. Several people associated with Sam and Dean are missing – perhaps even dead. She couldn't remember who or how.

While she had been bound, Mariah had learned that a kiss from another angel would break the spell and separate her from the demon. She intended to flee and hide. She didn't know that breaking the spell in such a manner would also kill her.

Her last words to me were that she was sorry she betrayed me again.

Though my relationship with Mariah had always been complicated, I am heartbroken over the loss. She was a rare free spirit in Heaven and I can't help but believe that God made her that way for a reason.

Despite this loss, Claire was foremost on my mind. I'm sure it is no coincidence that I heard her name on angel radio. I am the closest thing she has to family now, and I promised to be there for her whenever she needed me. I failed to watch out for her and now she is in danger.

Once I returned to the bunker, I had to tell the Winchesters all of it. Neither of them took this information well. They are concerned, as am I, which of their associates and friends have been targeted. Though it remained unspoken between us, all of us were sure that Claire Novak is among them.

"I have to save her," I stressed to the brothers.

"Of course," Sam nodded. "I'll help you."

Dean was slower to respond. He was quiet and I could sense that he was mulling over his options. He struggled with dueling sides of himself — the part that would jump in to help someone without a second thought and the part that wanted nothing else to do with hunting.

Sam sensed the same thing in his brother. "You don't have to …."

Yes I do," Dean held up a hand to stop his brother from finishing his comment. He spoke only to Sam. "There's no more hiding. Rowena wants us out there, she'll have us. And I'm not letting you go out there alone."

"Okay," Sam agreed readily. If he was unsure of Dean, he hid it well. "We'll do this together."

That moment between the brothers was an important one for because what Dean needed most was a sign that Sam still had faith in him because he didn't quite have faith in himself.

"But first, I need a shower," Dean announced as he hurried out of the room. He needed time to prepare himself and I needed more information about how to find Rowena.

When I arrive in Heaven, it takes only a moment for me to be surrounded by angels. They take my angel blade from me, though I am grateful that they lead me directly to Hannah. The news she gives me is grim. I learn who the witch has targeted and how powerful she has become. As rattled as I am by the information, I am worried that Dean will not be equipped to handle what she has revealed to me.

Hannah freely gives me all the intel she has on Rowena, and she gives me what they know about the binding spell that joined Mariah with the demon and a possible blocking spell that will prevent me from being a victim of it. I won't know if the blocking spell works unless Rowena tries to use the binding spell on me.

"She knows you will go after Claire. It will be a trap," Hannah warns me.

"I thought as much. I don't plan to go in unprepared."

"If anyone can stop her, it's you," Hannah tells me.

"And the Winchesters," I add.

I can see she doesn't necessarily agree but she nods. She orders that my blade be returned to me and I leave.

As I return to the bunker, it occurs to me that Rowena targeted specific people to draw out the three of us. Rachel, Claire and Jodi Mills, whom Hannah said was rescued by angels. She has been warded and hidden. It was after her rescue that Hannah sent Mariah to me.

Claire had been missing for a few days longer, and despite the angels' best efforts, they have been unable to locate her. Next to the Dean and Sam, no human means more to me. I don't know if she's alive, but I am determined to find her.

But there is another victim specifically chosen to target Dean. It means the Winchesters and I will have to split up so we can find them both in time. When Dean learns who has been taken, it's likely to either motivate him or break him entirely.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: As Dean prepares to fight Rowena, but when he finds out Rowena's target, it could bring about a major setback. Thanks to those who continue to read this story. Any reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

 **Born to run**

One of my first memories is of Dad chasing me as I run through a park when I was about three years old. I giggled as I darted away from him. I must've caught him off guard because he was several steps behind me yelling for me to stop.

I ran knowing that my Dad would catch me. And he did. The other thing I remember is that he wasn't happy with me after he caught me. Years later, he said that he barely grabbed me before I ran in front of a cyclist riding on a path. But I thought it had been a game. Dad understood something that I didn't and he saved me just in time.

I was crushed when he chided me. "You gotta be careful, son," I remember him saying. This was before Mom died. Dad was holding me, comforting me. But he unknowingly was preparing me for what our lives would eventually become. "When you're born to run, you have to watch where you're going."

He had no idea how right he was. I think I _was_ born to run — run away from anything that is uncomfortable. I could handle the hard mattresses in the smelly motel rooms. I could take a knife in the gut without blinking. But facing my worst fears? I'd do anything to push them down to pretend they weren't there.

And so many times, that running has led me right into something worse. After years of running like that, it literally drove me crazy — well that and the Mark of Cain.

So when Cas tells me who has been taken by Rowena, all I can think of is that I need to get out — run to where I've never heard of witches or spells. I just want to push down this raw grief that's threatening to overwhelm me. I don't want to cry because I've been crying too damn much lately. Going back to the beach sounds good. Hiding in my head in the sand — that sounds like a plan.

But running won't make this go away.

"What?" I choke out. Maybe I just didn't hear him correctly. He couldn't have said what I thought he said. I left her behind years ago to keep her safe. I forced Cas to wipe her memories of me so she could be happy.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas says as gently as he can with that gravelly voice he's been saddled with. "Rowena has Lisa."

I am painfully aware that Sam and Cas are watching me like I'm going to implode at any moment. I steel myself against that possibility because I need to get answers — I need to prove that this can't be possible.

"No." I scoff because it's the only word that will leave me throat.

"Dean …." Sam's hand is pressing into my shoulder and I shrug him off. I don't need his support right now because none of this is true. It can't be.

"No!" I say again, more forcefully. "That's not possible because you wiped her memory. You said they wouldn't remember anything about me."

"She wouldn't remember you," Cas tells me, stepping way too close for my comfort as he tries to keep me steady. "But _you_ remember _her_. Rowena took her because she's still important to you."

She wasn't the only person who was important to me. "What …," I clinch my jaw together to stop it from quivering until I can finally stammer out, "What about Ben?"

"Hannah says he's fine. He's being guarded by an angel who is in the vessel of a police lieutenant."

"An angel is guarding him?" I bite out. "Then he's screwed."

Cas blinks at my comment but doesn't retort. I shouldn't have said it. Cas is an angel and he's had our backs for years. I wouldn't have survived my first night out of my coma if not for him. Other than Sam, he's done for me than anyone. Maybe he should have been watching over Lisa and Ben instead. Maybe then, they would be okay.

"If it's any consolation, she's doesn't seem to be killing them. Rachel is alive and well and Jodi is alive," Cas points out.

Before Cas spills the beans about Lisa, he tells us that Jodi Mills was also taken. She made it out alive thanks to the training we gave her and a little help from a couple of angels. The problem is though she's alive, she's not doing very well. The spell Rowena used on her messed her up and the angels can't find the counter spell that will heal her.

I push my fingers into my eyes in a fruitless effort to stop the tears as I think about Lisa and Ben in danger again. I did nothing but screw up their lives. How long will they have to pay for knowing me — for loving me? I much will they have to sacrifice because I loved them?

Despite my best efforts to keep myself together, it's not working. I can't do this. I can't stop Rowena. I can't save Lisa. I can't hunt. I can't fight this. I turn away from the two people who are counting on me to help stop this evil witch from destroying any more lives because I can't be who they need me to be.

With my face in my hands, I stifle the grief that's working its way from my gut. What I can't do is let Lisa down again. I can't let her die because of me. I can't leave Ben without a mother or worse — to be Rowena's next target. I have to fight my way back so I can save them one more time. Though it takes me a few moments, I manage to pull myself together — as least as together as I can be right now. If Rowena wants a fight, she's got one.

"I'm sorry," I say to Sam and Cas as I turn back to them, swiping my hand across my face to erase the few tears that leaked out. They've gotten use to me losing control of my emotions these past couple of months. I blink through my blurry vision to see Sam ready to catch me because he thinks I'm going to collapse. But I'm not gonna fall this time.

"I'm okay," I assure them. My voice is stronger and my eyes are dry — are at least getting there. "Let's do this."

xxxxxXxxxxx

It's taken me years to accept our lives as hunters. Since I was just a kid, I wanted to run from it. I wanted to live in a normal house with normal parents and a normal brother who wouldn't even think of trading his soul to save my life.

I wanted a wife and a couple of kids and a job that paid the mortgage and for the private schools and a vacation once a year to Disney World. I wanted the Saturday morning soccer games and the traditional family Christmas celebrations.

I wanted the arguments between Dean and me to be about sports or even politics — not about my addiction to demon blood or his pathological need to save my life.

None of those things happened, so I ran away time and again. It started when I was so young, I think perhaps running is what I was born to do. Right now, I just want is my brother to be okay. He takes this giant step forward only to be thrown back again by all the crap that keeps happening to us.

When Cas returns from Heaven, I know something is terribly wrong. He looks worn and much too concerned about Dean.

"I'm good, Cas," Dean promises as the angel surveys him, noticing everything down to the belt holding up his loose jeans. "I nailed it at target practice. Only one hallucination," he says with a humorless chuckle that fails to appease Cas.

"So what's the word?" Dean asks, trying so hard to be ready for what's coming.

"Maybe you should sit," Cas suggests.

Dean grows defiantly serious when he answers that he doesn't need a chair. "Just spit it out, man."

Cas starts small. He relays information about a couple of hunters who were killed when they didn't know our location. We knew of these guys, but they weren't exactly friends. In fact, Dean had a definite negative opinion about one of them.

Then he confirms that Claire is indeed being held by Rowena. The angels don't know if she's still alive. He describes how Jodi Mills was taken and was rescued but is still suffering from the effects of a nasty spell.

All of this is upsetting, of course. But Dean is holding it together and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Cas keeps his eyes trained on Dean as he reveals the lasted victim — Lisa Braeden. As soon as Cas says her name, I turn to Dean. All that progress he's made is about to evaporate. I can see the signs of one of his panic attacks escalating.

"No," he chokes out. And it gets worse from there. Cas manages to convince him that despite wiping her memory, she is a target because Dean still cares about her.

As I watch Dean fall apart again, I don't know if I can take this anymore. My brother was the strongest person I've ever known. No matter what happened to him, he kept fighting. And he kept me fighting during the worst times of my life. Now the fight in him seems all used up. I don't know if he has anything left to give. What's happening now is my fault because I let Rowena have access to the most powerful evil in the world. In my desperation to save my brother, I made everything worse.

Two innocent people Dean once considered his family are now in danger. I know how much it wrecked him to let them go. When he finally walked away from them, his pain was so palpable that even he couldn't completely push it down. He's never spoke of them since that day.

As I watch my brother fall apart again, I realize something different is happening this time. He picks himself back up and braces himself to the task ahead. He heartbroken but he is stronger. And I breathe again.

So a plan is made. Castiel will save Claire while we talk to Ben. He must know something about how his mother was taken. With any luck, Cas will be back in time to help us find Lisa and kill Rowena.

"With a plan like this," Dean notes with his classic cynicism, "what could possibly go wrong."

xxxxxXxxxxx

We have close to a 12 hour drive to Michigan where Ben is being guarded by the angel. We load up the gear in the trunk of the Impala when Dean tosses his keys to me.

"You can drive."

"Sure." I take the keys and scrutinize him as he plunks into the passenger seat, worry again surging through me. This small act of wanting me to drive is a grim reminder that although Dean is trying to lock it down, he's still struggling.

It's about midday when we leave. That will put us at our destination around midnight. It's not ideal but we can't afford to wait for the perfect hour. For about the first hour into the trip, Dean is pensive, staring out of the passenger window. His jaw flexes every so often. I only hope that sometime in the next 11 hours, he'll decide he can open up to me.

I can see how the time at the beach has changed him — not just with the dark tans we both now have. Dean is thinner for sure. I guess that was from a combination of all his exercise and a much smaller appetite. It's not that he needed to lose weight. He certainly ate a ton of food of in the old days, but fighting monsters tended to burn a lot of calories so it evened out. It's funny that one of the things I miss about Dean is his love of a good, old-fashioned cheeseburger.

The real difference is in how he processes things. Before the Mark, Dean was a shoot first kind of guy. If he saw a problem, he jumped in to solve it. He didn't take time to think things through before he acted. He has saved many people like that. Even after the Mark was removed, his anxiety came out in a very physical way — the panic attacks, the vomiting and the flashbacks. After a couple of weeks at the beach, those tapered off — thankfully. But now he's is much more introspective. Less impulsive. I wonder how these new traits of his will serve him when we're in the midst of a fight.

"You want some music," I ask to break the long silence.

"Nah."

Another change in him. I blow out a sigh hoping he doesn't notice. The silence is killing me with worry, so I finally ask what I've wanted to ask since we've been on the road. "Are you okay?"

"Define okay," he answers, though he actually looks at me when he says it. That's something.

"I just …," I start.

"I know."

There's one thing that is the same. He knows what I wanted to say to him. In the best of times between us, our arguments would often end with a half comment from one of us — perhaps the beginning of an apology or a word toward an explanation — and the reply of 'I know' or an 'it's okay' from the other. That's all we needed.

In the worst of times, nothing we could say to each other would make things better. It is a comfort to know that at least our relationship is in the best of times.

For a few minutes, we fall back into silence until he speaks again, his voice unusually timid for him.

"I should've known," he says.

"Known what?" I glance toward him to see him staring out at the road ahead.

"That she would take Lisa."

"You couldn't have known," I emphasize. "You've haven't seen Lisa and Ben in years. You had no reason to think she would target them."

"I had dreams — nightmares." He dares a glance at me before pivoting his head back to the passing landscape. "For the past couple of weeks, some of my nightmares have been about both of them. Suffering. Dying _horrible_ deaths."

I release a slow breath. What torture he must have been going through to watch people he loved die night after night. It amazes me that Dean is doing as well as he is.

"They were just dreams, Dean," I try to encourage him. He told me that once when I confessed that I dreamed about Jessica dying days before it happened. Mine weren't just dreams and I was afraid that his weren't either. But I made a conscious decision to go with the assumption his nightmares were just the ordinary kind born out of the burdens buried deep in his subconscious. "You said you've dreamed about _everyone_ dying. They were just an expression of your fears, not a vision of what will happen."

"I don't know. They felt pretty real to me." He looks at me as if he already knows how all of this will turn out. "I will fight, you know? I will fight until the end, but …." He tilts his head in a half shake as his voice fades away.

"You can't give up, Dean." I hope my voice doesn't sound as desperate as I feel. "I remember a time when everyone told us that the apocalypse was going to happen and it was our destiny to be in the middle of that."

"We _were_ in the middle of that," he reminds me.

"Yeah, well not the way they wanted us to be. We stopped it because we believed we had a right to make our own choices."

Dean grunts. "But look happened to you. Your soul spent over a year in a cage being tortured by Lucifer."

"Until you saved me."

"That seems like so long ago. It's only been what? Six years?"

"It was a lifetime ago," I agree. "We both have changed so much. But there's one thing that hasn't changed."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You and me. Together. Fighting the good fight."

Dean manages a genuine smile under his doleful gaze. "Yeah."

xxxxxXxxxxx

I feel like I'm about to crawl out of my skin. Not a good trait for someone who is driving for 12 hours. So I hand Sam the keys and I'm grateful when he doesn't try to psychoanalyze my decision to be a passenger. I can feel his eyes on me as I climb into the Impala. He's worried about me. I know that. Hell, I'm worried about me. But I just need time to sort through things without colliding with some poor, unsuspecting driver.

Sam allows me my solitude for a while. Though my thoughts are troubling, it is a comfort to have him by my side. It always has been. I don't think he knows that. Even when we were at odds with each other, I felt better when he was around.

I've never trusted anyone the way I trust my brother. And certainly we had times when the trust between us was broken, but we always managed to build it back. He knows I would die for him. I _have_ died for him. And I've killed for him. And he's done the same for me. We've both been through the kind of hell that most people could never imagine. So I know that he is the one person I can tell what I've been thinking about for the past hour.

I've seen Lisa and Ben die in my nightmares, and something inside of me tells me that is exactly what's going to happen.

He says what I expect him to say — it's what I would've said to him if the situation was reversed. They were just dreams, not prophecies. But he says something else that actually makes me believe we can save them, and I can save Sam. And with any luck, I can save Cas, too.

He reminds me there was a time when fought against some pretty powerful archangels and made our own choices. It occurs to me that what I'm feeling now is what I felt then. I would fight to the death but it wouldn't make a difference. But it did make a difference then and it can make a difference now.

Like icing on a cake, he says one more thing. "You and me. Together. Fighting the good fight."

Damn straight.


	16. Chapter 16

**_AN: Dean and Sam are in for a few surprises as they between the search for Lisa._**

* * *

 **Things Remembered**

My bones creak as I unfold myself from the passenger seat of the Impala. We drove straight through, stopping only for gas and a few snacks that we ate when we got back on the road. I think I must be getting old as I try to stretch out my tired, stiff muscles.

Or maybe it's just that my body is reacting to my fear. I don't know what I'm going to say to the boy I feel like I abandoned all those years ago. I thought of him as a son but I know he won't remember me. I guess he really isn't a boy anymore. What is he now? 16?

We don't pull out the fed suits, but we have the badges. That will be as good a cover as any. And the angel knows who we are and that we're coming. Cas assures me he's one of the good guys. We make our way to a little house hidden behind a grove of trees about 50 yards off the road. It's heavily warded against just about everything.

Sam knocks because I can't seem to make my limbs move. The last time I saw Ben, he was only 11 years old and furious with me for almost getting his mother killed. Actually, that was before Cas wiped his memory. The last time I saw him, I was nothing to him. Just a guy who caused a car accident.

The angel in question comes to the door. He — or his vessel — looks like a military man in his 30s. Crew cut. Stocky build. He steps aside so we can enter. When Sam throws some holy water on him — just to be sure. He wipes his face without comment.

"We can't be too careful," Sam apologizes. "The last angel turned out to be …."

"Bound to a demon," he answers in a drill sergeant kind of voice. "I heard the story. No problem."

This wasn't what I was expecting. Most angels hated us. A few who were close with Cas tolerated us, but none were fond us. All of them thought they were better than us.

"Ben's asleep, but I can wake him."

"Let him sleep," I say automatically, telling myself it's not because I'm afraid to see him again. "We need to make sure we have all the information before we talk to him."

The drill sergeant angel fills us in on the details. His name is Daniel. That seems a bit ordinary to be an angel name but at least it's easy to pronounce. Daniel reminds us to call him Lt. Stocks — his vessel's name — in front of Ben.

"Castiel assures me that you two are up to the task," Daniel says. "Rowena has been quite difficult to destroy."

I'm not so sure we are, but I nod while Sam answers. "We're going to do the best we can."

"That's all any of us can do," Daniel responds in a manner that is uncharacteristically humble for an angel. Actually, he reminds me of Cas in that respect, so something in me says that we can trust him.

Daniel tells us he was dispatched to protect Ben after the angels discovered Lisa was taken by Rowena. He has very little information on Lisa's whereabouts.

"How is Ben?" I have to know, though my heart is beating out of my chest as I wait for an answer.

"He's very worried about his mother," the angel replies. "But he's holding up well. He seems to be a strong kid.

"Good," I breathe out. I can't help but feel proud that Ben turned out so well. That was all Lisa, but I knew he had it in him even when he was just a little boy. "What does he know?"

He believes his mother has been kidnapped and that he's in protective custody. I told him this afternoon that you — or I should say some FBI agents — would be coming to help find her."

"Has there been any trouble since you've been watching after him?" Sam asks.

"No. It's been quiet. I can assure you I have been diligently watching to make sure he's safe."

"I'm sure you have," I acknowledge, satisfied and maybe a little surprised that the angels considered Ben so important to send someone to watch over him. My back groans in protest of the 12-hour drive and perhaps of the tension from having to face the boy I deserted. I stand to stretch my sore muscles when I unexpectedly hear my name from a familiar voice.

"Dean?"

I whip around to see Ben standing in a doorway across the room. I gape at the boy who's grown so much. He must be close to my height — maybe an inch or so shorter. His hair is cut short and he has a hint of a beard on his face. His voice is an octave lower than I remember. The thing that throws me is how he knows who I am.

"Dean!" he calls out again, this time with obvious relief in his voice. He rushes to me and throws his arms around my shoulders. "I knew you would come."

My breathing is choppy because this wasn't what I expected. He wasn't supposed to know me. I can't even wrap my head around what's happening. But my arms tighten around him because even after all these years, it still feels like he's mine.

I close my eyes as I hold on to him because the last thing he needs to see is me falling apart. When I manage to get a handle on my emotions, I pull back and take a closer look at him. I'm still grasping his shoulders and the only thing I can manage to say is his name. "Ben."

"You're here to find Mom, right." He looks worried but hopeful.

"Yeah. We're …" I nod toward Sam, "… going to find her. I promise."

He follows my gaze to my brother. "Hi, Sam."

"How are you, Ben," Sam answers with a tight smile. The crinkle in his brow tells me he's wary.

My emotions run the gamut from confused to anxious to very happy to see him. Ben senses all of that. "You didn't think I would remember you."

"What exactly do you remember?"

His answer hits me like a punch in the gut.

"I remember all of it. I remember you used to be my Dad."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

Apparently memories don't go away for good. It's like posting something on the internet. If you decide you don't want it there and you can delete it. You can even find satisfaction in not seeing it anymore. But it's still out there and accessible to someone who knows how to get to it. It never actually goes away.

This must be true for Ben, who remembers everything about Dean.

The question is who or what knows how to search a person's past and reclaim memories that were supposed to have been erased. I have an idea, but if I say my hunch out loud to Dean, he's likely to punch me in the nose. My brother is not very trusting of higher powers.

And truthfully, Dean is walking a thin line right now. He expected the boy he once called his family would look at him as a stranger. He prepared himself for that during the drive here. He was ready to call himself Agent Bonham with the FBI. He expected to find the teenager nervous and afraid because his mother is missing. And he readied himself to act like a detached professional who was here to do a job, not comfort a frightened boy.

But Ben sees him and calls him by name. Then he hugs Dean like he's a long-lost father to him. Dean's reserved demeanor is crumbling as he holds on to that boy. It's clear that he still loves Ben very much.

He pushes the teenager back, staring at him with wide eyes and a creased brow, unsure of what to say.

"You didn't think I would remember you," Ben says with more calm that I would expect under the circumstances. He reminds me of Dean at that age — a cool demeanor covering up a lot of turmoil inside. I know that Ben isn't Dean's biological son, but my brother and this kid are so much alike.

When Ben says that Dean used to be his Dad, Dean looks like his breath has been knocked out of him. So I step in.

"Ben. Have you always remembered your life with Dean?"

"No," he admits. "It's just been the past month."

"What made you remember?" I ask. Dean is still quiet but watching closely as Ben answers.

"Dreams. I had dreams about you."

Dean and I share a glance. It can't be a coincidence that he and I had been dreaming about our lives with each other and Ben has been dreaming about his life with Dean.

"What did you dream?" Dean finally finds a voice.

"The first time, I dreamed about when you showed up at my birthday party. I think I was 8. And you saved me from that monster. I didn't know who you were then. I thought maybe … I don't know. I thought maybe you were my real father."

"You know that I'm not your biological father, right?" Dean says, his voice gentle. "I mean, it would have been great. You know? But it's not me."

Ben nods. "I know. It just that it felt like you were. Especially after the other dreams. Like when you showed up at our door one night after you thought Sam died. Mom told me you would be staying with us for a while."

"Your mom said …," Dean starts but his voice fades out.

"In my dream, she said that you lost your brother and you needed someone. And we would be there for you. Then I dreamed about us just hanging out. You helped me practice soccer and how to fix cars. And we played a lot of basketball – just the two of us playing one on one. And once, I dreamed about you yelling at me when I found your weapons in the trunk of your car."

Dean lets out a strained breath. Everything Ben had been dreaming must have been memories for him.

"I still didn't know why I was having these dreams, so I asked Mom if she knew someone named Dean. I thought she was going to freak out."

"So she … remembers?"

"She was having dreams, too. And we started to talk about them, how some were the same and some were different."

"What did she ….?" Dean stops, not sure he should ask about Lisa's dreams, but Ben answers anyway.

"She wouldn't tell me all of it. She said some of it was private stuff between you and her." Ben lips turn up in a knowing smile. I notice that my brother, who never gets embarrassed by anything, has a hint of a blush to his face. I can imagine what some of her dreams were about.

"We both had dreams about the time you lived with us and when you left … and why," Ben says with a noticeable glance toward me. I wonder if they had dreams about me when I was soulless. I wonder if they saw the terrible things I had done to my brother. But I push all those questions aside.

"I woke up one morning and I had remembered everything – about you, about how I felt about you. About how I didn't want you to leave."

A shadow falls over Dean's face as he remembers all of this. "I never wanted to hurt you or your mom."

"It did hurt," Ben responds evenly. "It felt like you were abandoning us."

My brother nods, complacently accepting the rebuke from the teenager, and I am fighting the overwhelming urge to defend him but I manage to reign in my defensiveness after what Ben says next.

"It took me awhile, but I understand that why you had to leave. This wasn't a dream, but I remembered calling you because when demons kidnapped us. You came to save us, but I still blamed you when Mom was hurt."

"Because it was my fault." Dean's voice is low, and I'm concerned that he'll spiral into one of his panic attacks. But as painful as this conversation is, he seems to be holding it together.

"I remember sitting in the hospital waiting for Mom to die, and I was so mad at you. But it wasn't your fault. You were just trying to save her. I didn't remember anything after that."

Dean and I both know why his memories stopped there. But his dreams did not stop. He saw that Cas healed his mother and wiped both of their memories. And he saw Dean walk away after he checked on them for the last time.

"That's when I understood how hard it was for you to leave." Ben kept his eyes on Dean now. "And I understood why you thought you had to."

"I didn't have a choice," Dean says softly. "I wish things could have been different."

Ben shrugs. I think he believes it could have been different — or least he wanted it to be. But for now, he has other concerns. "How will you find Mom?"

That was a good question but it was not one that we have the answer to just yet. Dean looks at me again and I think he needs me to steady him. I can see the fear and regret swirling in his eyes.

"We're working on that, Ben," I put in. "Tell us what you know about her disappearance."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxx

* * *

Ben has very little information about Lisa. He came home after soccer practice to find the house torn apart. He called the police and was whisked away by Daniel posing as Lt. Stocks. Somewhere along the way, he discovered the lieutenant was actually an angel. But he played along anyway. How he discovered that was one piece of information he wasn't giving — at least not in front of Daniel.

With no other leads, we could only wait for news from Cas.

Dean takes Ben aside to talk to him alone. I give them space so that perhaps Ben would open up more about what he knows.

I pull out my computer and start searching for signs of Rowena. Daniel is standing guard like a sentry — choosing not to communicate with us for the moment. My eyes drift to Dean, who is listening to Ben talk about his life for the past five years.

For Dean and me, it's been one crisis after another since we locked Lucifer away— starting with me not having a soul to Dean struggling to heal from the Mark of Cain. It never ends — this life we have is an incessant journey of trying to stop the evil and trying to survive the scars it leaves on us. We've both tried to leave this life and it always catches up with us. Dean knew the day he walked away from Lisa and Ben. It took me a couple of more years. But we both know it now. This is our life.

I realize I'm tired of the struggle.

Dean looks at me as if he knows what I'm thinking. We share an unspoken thought that we'll do whatever it takes to eliminate Rowena.

Daniel finally speaks up and suggests that we all get some sleep while we can. He's heard some rumblings on angel radio that things are heating up. He suggests that we sleep while we can. Dean sends Ben back to bed and sits heavily on one of the two couches that will be our resting place for the rest of the night. By the look on his face, I now he's not in the mood to talk. He's still tense as he lays down, his eyes open staring at the ceiling.

I open my mouth to call his name but I close it again, not knowing what I can say to make him feel better. So I just watch him until his physical exhaustion finally takes over and he closes his eyes.

Sleep takes longer for me because I can't shut off the thoughts in my head about the memories Ben has regained. And how my brother looked when he realized he wasn't forgotten after all. And how Dean chose to walk away from a family he loved because I came back from hell. I think about whether Cas found Claire and if he knows how we can defeat Rowena.

I force the thoughts out of my head so I can get some rest. Even as I drift off to sleep, I wonder if this is the one we can't win.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Life and Times of Jimmy Novak's Vessel**

If the path to hell is paved with good intentions, I should have been strung up there long ago. My intentions were always pure. I always thought I was doing what was right, yet the harm I've done has been immeasurable.

After Dean and Sam stopped the apocalypse, I believed that I had a mandate from God to fix Heaven. After all, he made me whole after I was blasted into billions of tiny atoms by Lucifer. But thanks to my self-importance, everything I did was wrong. I made a pact with a demon and betrayed my friends. I inhaled all those souls from purgatory because I had a mission that I thought was righteous. I acted as a god to enact vengeance on all those who crossed me. The guilt of killing so many angels and humans still weighs on me. It always will.

Again my pride got the best of me when I thought I could fix Heaven with help from Metatron. I ignored the warnings deep in my soul about him. My mission, again, was a righteous one. And again, I was responsible for untold damage in Heaven and on Earth.

I know that I will never be able to atone for those sins, but I try. And I keep trying because of the example set for me by the humans in my charge. Though they are a flawed species, humanity at their best keeps fighting to do what's right and makes amends for their past transgressions.

I have found no better examples of the best of humanity than the Winchesters — despite a demon blood addiction or the Mark of Cain or any other of their failures. Because when they fall, they get back up and try again.

I remember the day I pulled Dean from perdition. He was a man who believed that his life was less important than his brother's life. So he traded his soul. I was the angel assigned the task of saving him and communicating with him. That task required that I occupy a vessel.

Jimmy Novak was righteous man who loved his family and his friends. He spent his Sundays in church and many other days helping people who were less fortunate. He gave thanks before every meal and prayed for guidance each new day. When I asked him to let me take control of his body, he readily agreed. His only concern was that I protect his family. I admit I felt some reluctance for taking him from his wife and child, but my mission was more important than one man.

Dean would remind me later that because of Jimmy Novak's sacrifice, I was able to help save the world. Perhaps that is true, but what is left of Jimmy is still my responsibility. It is with that sense of duty that I know that I must save his daughter. I owe it to Jimmy and I owe it to Claire.

I realize, however, that my regenerated angel grace does not make me more powerful than all other beings and I am painfully aware that Rowena has gained more power than me through the Book of the Damned. So I must be smart and I must be prepared.

The vessel I occupy bears two marks — one to prevent a demon from possessing me and another that prevents my grace from leaving this body. I am glad that Jimmy Novak is at peace in Heaven because I now will forever occupy his body — unless Rowena has gained knowledge of a spell that will make these markings useless. If that happens and a demon binds itself to me, Sam and Dean will be on their own to finish off the witch. The most I will be able to do is use my angel blade to kill both myself and the demon.

I feel no hubris now. I know that I am only a small part of a bigger plan. I am no more important than Sam or Dean, or Hannah, or the angel who now guards young Ben, or anyone else who has a part in ridding the universe of the ugly creature Rowena has become. If I don't survive, the plan will move forward without me.

My only regret would be if I fail to save Claire.

Finding Claire has been easy — so easy that I know it is a trap. I am as prepared as I can be. I am ready to die if need be and I am ready fight for as long as I can. I find Claire alone in a room surrounded by toys meant for a young child.

She is sitting in a corner with a stuffed toy cat in her arms and singing a child's song about wheels on a bus. This young woman seems to now have the mind of a five-year-old. My blood turns cold at the realization that this is the spell Rowena has put on her.

Taking care not to frighten her, I kneel and say her name gently. "Claire."

She breaks out in a smile when she sees me and she calls me "Daddy."

What should I say? The same words I said to her when I first met her?

 _I am not your father._

I can't do that to her again. "Claire," I say again. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Daddy." I cringe when she calls me that, but her eyes sparkle like she's been waiting for me.

I hold out my hand and she takes it. As I help her up, the room fills with a red light and a fine mist. I try to grab Claire and fly away, but I am too late. Rowena's magic has blocked me from exiting.

"Ah Castiel," she says, a smirk crossing her face. She is wearing long black robes and is accompanied by a demon. "This has been much too easy."

With a wave of a hand, she knocks Claire away from my grasp. "Those markings will be of no use to you," she taunts. With another wave, I feel one of the marks literally burning off my skin. By the location of the pain, I know it's the one that prevents my vessel being possessed by a demon.

"You didn't actually think a little tattoo would stop me, now did ya?"

"No," I answer truthfully.

"I appreciate your honesty," she laughs and nods to the demon by her side.

The witch begins uttering a spell in Latin as the demon smokes out of the body he is possessing and moves towards me. The first words of the spell lock my body in place and I cannot move. She moves directly into the words that will bind my grace to the demon.

Even as she speaks, her eyes dart around the room as a rumble begins in the foundation of the building and moves up through the walls. The demon smoke splays across my face. Then, as if it has hit a barrier, sinks down into the floor.

Rowena's voice rises, alarmed that the demon won't do her biding. She frantically calls out the words of the spell again, but the smoke has disappeared back into hell.

I can't help but allow myself a smile as I reveal a secret. "That mark is a fake," I say lightly touching burn that is now quickly healing. The real marks were actually placed on my ribs and probably will never be removed. I am delighted by the dumbfounded look on Rowena's face but I have no time to revel in it. I grab Claire and we fly away to safety as a garrison of angels advance on the building and Rowena.

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

Claire is crying as we arrive moments later in safe house guarded by several angels, including Hannah. I see Jodi Mills in a catatonic state sitting alone in a chair. I am discouraged to learn that the spell on her has not yet been broken. That means it will be as difficult to bring Claire back as well. At the moment, she is like a little girl crying in my arms.

Hannah is now in a vessel borrowed from another angel. She has abided by her word that she will never steal another human's life for her own use. But on rare occasions when a vessel is required, she will occupy one that has already been acquired by another angel. The body she occupies is a petite middle-aged Asian woman.

"Castiel," Hannah says as she approaches us. "How is she?"

I shake my head. "The spell has made her a child again."

"Where are we, Daddy?" Claire says, effectively illustrating my point. I shrug to Hannah because I'm not sure what to do and I keep holding Claire because it calms her.

"We're not having much luck here discovering how to break the spell," Hannah informs me. "Jodi is declining. She doesn't have much time left."

As if to punctuate how we're all running out of time, we hear the word on angel radio that Rowena has escaped again.

A groan escapes my lips. I wanted more than anything for Dean to not have to fight. "How? She was surrounded when I took Claire away."

"She must have found a spell in the Book of the Damned that is allowing her to escape," Hannah speculates.

More bad news. To make matters worse, Claire is weeping softly against my chest. To someone with the mind of a child, the activity around us is overwhelming. "Shhhh," I whisper. "You're safe."

I look up to see Hannah watching me with interest — and perhaps with affection. I've never been very good at reading that emotion in humans or angels. "You're very good with her," she says.

"I'm all she has." What I am doing now is so insignificant compared to my sins that caused this girl to be left alone in the world.

"I believe, Castiel, that you are correct that the Winchesters are our only hope. It appears the spell is particularly effective against angels. Your human friends may be able to surprise her. That may be our only chance."

"But if she can sense angels, I won't be able to help them." My voice has risen, startling Claire who grips me tighter. I wish I had time to focus more on her, but the situation is spiraling out of control. "Rowena is so powerful, I can't stand back and watch them get hurt." Or die, I want to say, but I tap down my emotions. They are as much my responsibility as Claire is, and I don't know how to help any of them.

Meanwhile, Claire is more distressed than before.

"Take care of her," Hannah suggests as she nods to Claire. "She needs you, and we need to come up with a new plan."

I move with Claire to a living area meant to make Jodi more comfortable. Perhaps it will do the same for the girl in my arms. I sit and let her rest against me as I soothe her with comforting words. When I kiss her lightly on the top of her head, it even surprises me. The gesture was so automatic that it must have been a shadow of her father still within me. Feelings of wanting to keep this child safe engulf me. If this trace of Jimmy Novak can comfort Claire now, then I am glad.

I don't know how to be a father, but I do know that I want to protect her. I must have done something right because her crying has ceased. Claire leans back and looks at me, she's confused but her voice is steady as she speaks.

"Castiel."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

When I arrive at the safe house where Sam and Dean are waiting, I find them still asleep and Daniel watching over them all. It's been hours since the spell against Claire was broken. She seems completely recovered while Jodi Mills is weakening.

Daniel has obviously heard the results of my encounter with Rowena on angel radio. "A partial success?"

"At least Claire is safe," I nod. I look at the brothers sleeping just feet from each other on long couches that were provided for them. I hope they have had enough rest because the next phase of our plan will be the most dangerous.

"Take Ben to the other safe house," I instruct Daniel. He obeys and both are gone within seconds. Sam is beginning to stir. I lean in to check on Dean.

Dean jumps when he sees me. "Cas," he complains. "What did I tell you about personal space?"

"What happened?" Sam interrupts as I move away from Dean.

"Claire is safe. Rowena escaped again." It's a much abbreviated summary, but I will tell them the entire story. We have very little time for me to fill them in on the new plan.

Dean stands and stretches slightly. "And you?"

"The marks worked," I say. "But you can check."

"No, man. We trust …," Sam starts, but Dean has already pulled out a flask of holy water that was in his pocket and splashes some into my face.

He smiles impishly and shrugs as the water fails to produce steam. As much as I would like to take a moment and enjoy the ease, Lisa is in grave danger now that she is the only hostage Rowena has left at her disposable. "There's much I need to tell you."

Dean's smirk fades and he's back to all business. "Have you found Lisa?"

"We have it narrowed down to a couple of locations in Kansas," I explain. "The most likely one in Lawrence."

"Of course," Dean groans. "Nothing good ever happens in Lawrence."

"She wants us in a place that would get up off kilter," Sam surmises.

"That's my assumption," I agree.

"Maybe she's just trying to get us off track," Dean frowns as he searches for a legitimate way not to go to Lawrence. I know that city holds painful for memories for him and Sam. It's where their mother died and it's where Sam jumped into the hole to put Lucifer in his cage. This is why I know they must go there.

"She wants you to find her, Dean," I say. "And she wants you to feel uneasy."

"Uneasy?" he scoffs. "Uneasy is how I felt when I learned that Ben remembers me. And apparently Lisa does as well. Any idea how your memory erasing thing didn't work?" he asks as he waves his hand over his face in a wiping motion.

"He remembers you?"

"Yeah," Dean huffs. "Didn't you know?"

Another hitch in the plan. It will change how Lisa will respond to Dean. And the larger question is how did those memories return? It takes great effort to recover memories once they are expunged from a human. I simply shake my head at Dean as my mind works through any changes that this news will require.

"Are they angry with you?" I ask, fully expecting the irritated look I receive from Dean.

"That's important now?" Dean bites. "I'd rather know _how_ this happened. They were supposed to move on not …." He stops suddenly, a flash of pain rushes across his features.

"They still care about you," I surmise from his reaction. "This could work."

"Excuse me?" He's angry now. And troubled. "This could work? Because they remember every crappy thing I've ever done to them … including abandoning them? Because they are heartbroken again?"

"It means Lisa will trust you when we find her," I say, trying calm Dean. Without me to watch out for them, they both need to be on point in every step. I let out an anxious breath. "It means if a spell has been placed on her, you still may be able to convince her to come with you. It means you can save her."

Dean drops his eyes and squeezes them shut. It's only been a day since he's agreed join in this hunt and he still radiates fear.

"And that's important," I add, "because I can't come with you."

Dean's head snaps up and both brothers stare at me, their mouths agape. While I sense anger mingling with fear as Dean struggles with which emotion will take control, it is Sam who is the first to speak. And is question is remarkably simple.

"Why not?"

"Rowena can perceive an angel's presence," I explain, looking mostly at Dean. Sam seems to trust there is a good reason I can't go. He just wants to know what it is. Dean's emotions are all over the place, and he needs to pull himself together to accomplish this mission. "If I go, my very presence will give it all away."

A curt nod from Dean implies that he now understands, but he is still struggling with what he's feeling. So much so that I'm beginning to wonder if I should find a spell or a sigil to hide myself from Rowena. Hannah investigated that possibility but did not find an acceptable mark.

So I'm considering call the whole thing off when Dean finally speaks — his voice strong. "Okay then," he says looking at Sam. "I guess it's just you and me."

I watch Dean closely as I fill them in on the new plan, with the appropriate changes to account for Lisa's memory. When he asks about Ben, I'm not sure if he's relieved that Ben will be safe or upset that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye. But he accepts my answer — his usual controlled demeanor firmly in place now.

"Please be careful," I implore as they prepare to leave. They both nod, but Dean gives me a significant look.

"Thank you," he says, "for everything."

I frown because I realize Dean has no intention of surviving this.

* * *

AN: Things will begin to heat up in the next chapter as Sam and Dean face a threat from Rowena as they search for Lisa. Thanks for reading, following/favoriting, and reviewing!


	18. Chapter 18

**_AN: Things heat up in this chapter as Dean and same begin their search for Rowena. Thanks for reviews and for reading!_**

* * *

 **Witch on a Hot Tin Roof**

I settle in behind the wheel of Baby. Man it feels good. It's been months since I've driven her, and she still responds to me with perfection. In spite of all the crap that's about to rain down on us, being in the driver's seat again makes me smile.

It took a death glare from me to finally convince Sam that I'm okay to drive. I need to drive. I can't sit riding shotgun brooding all the way to Lawrence. I need to keep my mind sharp, and getting behind the wheel again is the best way to do that.

You okay?" Sam, who's back in the passenger seat, asks. That feels good, too. Having him there beside me. Though that's about the extent of my good feelings.

"You really need to stop asking me that," I say, allowing a slight grin to let him know I'm not annoyed. I know what it's like to have the responsibility of watching a brother when you don't know what he's going to do next. I've been there. The whole demon blood thing nearly did me in. Then a few years later, I worried about him again when he was completing the trials to close the gates of hell.

Okay, so I've been worrying about him my entire life. It was a responsibility I gladly accepted. During the worst of it, all I wanted was him to be honest. So I'm will pay him the respect of being honest with him now.

"I'm scared," I admit. "I mean, I'm really scared. But I'm okay."

He watches me for a long moment trying to decide if being scared and being okay are mutually exclusive. I guess he decides it's possible to be both.

"You know what," he answers, leaning back in his seat as he waits for me to drive. "You'd be crazy if you weren't scared. I'm scared, too."

He doesn't elaborate on why he's afraid, but he doesn't have to. I know he's still worried about me. I think he trusts me to let him know if I need help. We're so in sync right now, it doesn't take words to let him know. When Ben was describing his dreams to me, I thought I might spiral out of control again. One look to Sam, he didn't miss a beat asking Ben the right questions.

I nod at his response as I push down on the gas, screeching out of the driveway. It's a 10-hour drive to Lawrence, and I intend to make it in 8. Cas assures me we won't be too late because Rowena will be expecting us. With any luck, we'll be able to save Lisa before we take on the witch herself.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

The drive to Lawrence has been unusually silent. We both are wrapped up in our own thoughts, though I think Sam has been trying to say something to me for hours. I don't encourage him. It either will be a pep talk — which I don't have the patience for — or some gushy emotional sentiment he wants to say because it may be our last chance. I don't have the energy for that. I know how he feels about me. I know he's worried and I know that one or both of us could die tonight. But I can't think about that right now because I have to stay focused if we have a prayer of saving Lisa.

My brother has always been able to read me, and he still can. So he holds back from saying the words he wants to say and I am comforted just by the fact that he's here.

We reach our destination — an abandoned farm house on the outskirts of Lawrence — in just over 8 hours. Cas told us that the angels have pinpointed Lisa's location to this vicinity. She should be in the house, a century old traditional two-story. The sun is beginning to set, but we should have enough light to search without flashlights so we won't arouse suspicion with the neighbors or with any lookouts Rowena may have stationed nearby.

I park about a half a mile from the house, and Sam grabs the duffle bag filled with the supplies we'll need. He pauses behind the trunk and I can feel him itching to say what's been on his mind.

"Dean," he starts, and I grimace because he looks determined. "I need to say something to you."

"No," I choke out. I'm doing my best to hold it together, but if he starts getting emotional on me, I might lose it. I turn to leave, but he puts a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Wait," he pleads. "We've been through too much. We both know how a battle like this ends, and I will not go in there without you hearing me out."

I stop moving and squeeze my eyes closed, fully aware that I could lose my brother today — or he could lose me. We've found ourselves in this situation time and again. I realize the best thing I can do for him is to let him have his moment. I owe him that.

I turn to face him, and notice the look in his eyes — a mixture of surprise that I relented, and relief. And sorrow. That stands out more than anything.

Yet he still manages to astonish me with what he says. "I'm proud of you."

Despite myself, I scoff. I'm a shadow of the hunter I use to be and I'm barely holding it together, and he's proud of me?

"No matter what happens," he adds.

"Is that your way of telling me that we don't have a chance in hell of killing Rowena?" I feel guilty for saying it when he's trying to boost me. But I can read between the lines.

"No," he denies it emphatically. "That's not what I'm saying at all."

I give him an appeasing nod, but I don't believe him. "Let's get going," I grumble.

"Dean," he stops me again with a touch to my arm. I try to forge ahead because I don't need to hear this right now. I have to stay sharp. As his pressure on my arm increases, I whip back to him.

"Sammy, please." I sigh when he won't let go.

"What I'm saying is …." He pauses, looking for the right words. I'm getting irritated because we really need to find Lisa.

"When we were kids, I didn't understand how much you did for me," he starts and I groan. If this goes back childhood, this could take a while.

"And I certainly didn't appreciate it until much later," he presses on. "After Stanford. After Jessica. After we lost each other a few times, I started to understand."

"Hindsight and all that," I mutter and start to pull away again.

"I appreciate it now. More than you know."

"I know you do, Sammy," I say, finally relenting and letting him say what he needs to say. And as much as I'm touched by his effort, it doesn't change the fact that I'm going in at half power to save Lisa and take out Rowena. And it doesn't change the fact that my screw ups have put us in this position in the first place.

"I think I took you for granted, you know?"

"You were a kid," I argue. "I didn't expect you to …."

"You were a kid, too," he cuts in. "But I didn't see you as a kid. You were just my big brother."

He said the magic words — the ones that make me stop and listen despite my reluctance to even have this conversation. Big brother. That's what I want to be for him even now, but he's the one who has to take care of me.

"You were always there for me," he goes on. "I knew I could always lean on you because you were the strongest person I knew."

I wince at his description of me — the person I used to be. _Strong_? Not anymore. "I'm sure your opinion has changed on that," I say bitterly before I can stop myself. He has to know that I'm anything but strong now. I start to turn away because I don't want put him on the spot by admitting that I'm not who once was. His words stop me cold.

"It hasn't changed at all," he says. "Just the opposite." I turn to face him seeing the sincerity in his eyes. I hear the words but I don't understand what he's saying.

"After everything you've been through, it's amazing that you have the strength to do what we're about to do. I just wanted you to know that I'm very proud of you."

My mouth hangs open for a few moments as what he's telling me slowly sinks in. I want to tell him that he's the reason that I'm able to stand here at all. He's the reason I could keep fighting, but the words are stuck. He gives me an affectionate squeeze on my shoulder as he leads the way past me toward the house.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

We both have memorized a spell that should render Rowena mute so she can't cast any spells on us.

Our first objective is to find Lisa, get her out of the house and call Cas. He will whisk her away then come back to help us finish off Rowena. We have a plan A and a couple of back up plans if that fails to do the job.

Though witches are human, and therefore should be relatively easy to kill, Rowena is different. Not only is she centuries old, but she also has protection from the Book of the Damned. We have three methods to kill her — bullets with a special witch-killing brew created by the angels; an angel blade; and a spell that will break her union with the evil Book she has in her possession. If Cas is there, he himself is a forth method — good, old-fashioned angel mojo. We hope that just a touch from him will solve the problem.

Cas believes we may need to use all of these methods to ensure her end.

I look back at Sam and give him a nod before we enter the house. It's unlocked. An uneasy feeling travels up my spine. I glance at my brother again and see the same concern on his face. He shrugs and we wordlessly agree to keep going. We have no choice if we want to save Lisa.

It takes about 15 minutes to check each room and we find them all empty. My frustration level is rising. "If she's not here …." My voice is low as if there's someone who might hear.

"It looks like there's a barn in the back — a few hundred yards out," Sam says as he looks out a window. "Maybe she's there."

I head toward a door that leads from a kitchen to the back yard. Time is short and we have to get to Lisa before Rowena knows we're here. As I reach to grab the knob and I jerk my hand away. It's scorching hot. Small blisters are forming on my fingers where I touched the knob. I look at Sam as my heart sinks. We're too late.

Rowena is standing in the doorway across the kitchen, her hands extending in the air as she recites a spell. Everything around us ignites into flames.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

I've been watching Dean since we learned that Lawrence would be the location of our showdown with Rowena. I can practically see the gears in his head turning as he works to keep control over his emotions. And he does. He's come so far since just a few days ago when he was determined to quit hunting for good.

No panic attacks. No hallucinations since the bunker and no more tears. I am more impressed with my brother than I've ever been. Dean is the guy you want in your corner when the odds are stacked against you. He comes through when no one else can. I am blown away at how he's managed to pull himself together. Yet I know he's lacking the confidence that he had before the Mark took over his life.

I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that one of us won't survive the fight with Rowena. I have to make sure he knows he has the strength to go on without me. This may be the last chance I have to tell him how I feel.

So I force him to listen to me before we begin this battle. He's resistant, as I knew he would be. Fear emanates from him as he's blocking out any distractions that may hinder him now. Still, I stop him and beg him to listen.

Eventually, he hears it. Even as he stands mutely while he absorbs my message to him, I can also see a determination settle in his eyes. Now we can get started.

I take off toward the abandoned house, and he catches up and takes the lead in a matter of seconds. I smile as he does because I recognize that it's a symbolic gesture to show that he heard what I said.

Dean's composure begins to fray when we are unable to find Lisa in the house. The unsettling feeling I have intensifies as the temperature in the room rises.

We're surrounded by an intense fire that isn't consuming us though I can feel the heat on my face. It's meant to keep us trapped. I understand some of the Latin spell that Rowena is reciting. She's not trying to kill us — at least not yet.

I look over at Dean and see that he is deadly calm. In control. Rowena has made a serious mistake is she thinks Dean will be frightened by the fire that has surrounded us.

With no other means of fighting her, I start to recite the spell that should render her mute. I shout it over the flames. I can tell that Dean hears me, but his doesn't break his gaze on Rowena. He's looking for any opportunity to attack her.

As the sound from the roar of the fire increases, I raise my voice. For a moment, it seems my spell is working as the flames start to diminish. I glance over to Dean, who has pulled out the gun that has been loaded with bullets filled with witch-killing brew. He fires a shot. And another and another. The bullets fail to penetrate the fire.

I continue the spell, though it's getting more and more difficult to speak. Rowena appears to be standing in the midst of the fire as she shots one-word spell. My voice falters as I struggle to utter the last four lines. Another glance at Dean shows that he has pulled out the angel blade, waiting for the chance to use it. He's trusting me to finish the spell, but I can't. My throat closes up and I can't breathe. I gasp for air, but none will enter my lungs.

I believe Rowena's last spell is what is cutting off the oxygen in my lungs. I hear Dean's voice recite the the words that I can no longer complete. The lack of oxygen is making me light-headed and I drop to my knees. I can no longer hear Dean. In fact, I no longer hear anything at all except the sound of my own beating heart.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Warning: Things look bleak for the Winchesters. It's a tough chapter for them. But hang in there!**

* * *

 **Sacrifice**

My heart is beating out of my chest. Rowena has the upper hand and my brother is choking to death beside me. Lisa is God knows where. The bullets don't work. I can't get close enough to use the angel blade and Cas is no where to be found. Since the element of surprise is lost, I'm debating whether to complete the spell that should render Rowena's spell useless or use my next breath to call for Cas.

I opt for the Latin that stumbles off my tongue, until I realize the fire is acting as a force field that not only prevents the bullets from penetrating but also my words.

"Cas," I say in a whisper, hoping that the fire doesn't prevent him from hearing me. I push down my rising panic. "We need a little help here."

The heat from the fire is less intense, though the flames manage to reach the ceiling. Still nothing is being burned. I prepare to lunge at the witch though the fire if I must. If I go down, it will not be without a fight. But my feet are locked in place.

"You must choose who you will save, Dean Winchester." Rowena's voice is much to self-satisfied.

"How about I choose who to kill," I retort, nodding toward the witch. I hope the anger in my voice hides my fear. I can't appear weak now.

She laughs. "However you put it, either your brother or your girlfriend will die in the next few minutes. As you choose to save one, the other will die. Refusing to make a choice will kill them both."

Despite my efforts otherwise, I'm sure that she sees the effect her words have on me. I can feel the blood drain from my face and the smirk on her face indicates I have given her the reaction she wants.

"Here's a hint," she says in a whisper-shout as if she's telling me a secret. "Check the barn." With a piercing voice, she calls out another spell and disappears. I spin around to see where she has gone and the fire completely dissolves away at me feet.

I look to Sam on my right, who has collapsed on the floor gasping for breath, and to the door on my left — the exit that will take me to the barn and to Lisa. _As you choose to save one, the other will die._

I squeeze my eyes closed for just a moment before I move to the right.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

"Sammy …"

I hear my brother's raspy voice calling me. Each breath I take is like a stab to my lungs. I can feel the pain spreading through my chest and abdomen. Whatever spell Rowena used on me is ripping me apart on the inside.

"Take it easy. Just breathe." Dean's hands are on my back, as he pulls me into a sitting position and helps me lean against a cabinet.

Though getting air in my lungs is difficult, it's the pain that's making it hard to speak. But I heard what Rowena said to Dean. To save Lisa, he must let me die. "s…kay," I wheeze. "Go."

"Let me take care of you first, then I'll get Lisa," he tells me, though it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself.

"Save … Lis …." My breath runs out before I can say her full name, but I need Dean to know that it's okay to choose her.

"I'm going to. Just as soon as I can get you out of here," he says, his voice rough. "I don't care what Rowena said, I'm going to save you both."

"No." I cough and pull in another bit of air. "No time."

"Just breathe, man," he begs me. "I _will_ save her. You just need to breathe."

"She … did … more," I spit out between shallow breaths as I lay my hands on my chest. I can't get enough words out to explain, so I hope he understands. "Not just lungs."

Dean's face turns to stone as he processes what I'm telling him. Rowena caused more damage than he can see. He whips his head toward the back of the house — the path toward the barn. In only a moment, he's watching me again with a tormented look in his eyes. I don't know if he's still in love with Lisa, but do know he cares about her very much. He could never live with himself if he lets her die. I see the conflict in his eyes.

"Every … thing hurts," I admit through gritted teeth and gasps for air. The pain is getting worse. "Can't … save … me."

"Let me just get you out of here," he pleads. "There's probably a hex bag in this house and if I can't get you outside …."

"Dean …." I stop him. Though my voice is quiet, it's firm. "It's … time."

When he shuts his eyes, I know he understands exactly what I mean. He told me months ago that there would be a time when we had to let each other go. His eyes are filled when he opens them again. "Not yet."

"You … can …do this," I stutter out despite the pain and the weakness penetrating my entire body. Somehow, I find enough breath to drive home my message. "Save Lisa … Kill Rowena. There's … no one … but …. you."

He grabs the scruff of my neck and pulls me closer to him, letting his head rest against mine. "You have to hang on, okay," he says in the coarse whisper. "I'm going to come back for you."

He leans back and looks at me with desperate intensity. "I will be back."

I nod slightly, giving him permission to go. I know he'll come back but I also know it will be too late.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

It takes everything I have in me to walk away from my brother. It kills me to see him suffer and not be able to help him. But I know he's right. Saving Lisa and killing Rowena have to come first. Lisa is innocent and I can't let Ben lose his mother.

And Rowena has to be stopped.

"Cas, please," I pray as I run. As determined as I was to save both Sam and Lisa, now I'm terrified that Lisa may already be dead and Sam will die before I can get back to him. The fear that I'm going to lose them both makes me stumble. I pause to steady myself and make one more plea to Cas. "Help Sam."

I'm standing now just inches from the barn doors, and my hand trembles as I open them both wide. I want as much light as possible to shine in as the sun begins to set. Before I walk in, I look back toward the house willing Sam to hold on a little longer. When I turn back, I pull myself together and step into the the outbuilding.

I see Lisa straight away, stretched out on several bails of hay. I resist the urge to rush to her before I check the premises. I see no sign of Rowena, demons or any other danger there. Still, I remain on high alert as move toward Lisa to check for a pulse. She's alive but unconscious.

"Lisa …." I shake her gently. "Come on, honey. Wake up."

When she doesn't stir, I stroke her head as I take a moment to consider my options. She hasn't changed at all in six years. I can almost imagine that she's sleeping peacefully in the bed we used to share. A stab of regret cuts through me as I think of what could have been if I hadn't been so royally screwed up.

I bring myself back to the present as I look around hoping that perhaps Cas has somehow appeared unnoticed. I sigh when I still see nothing but an empty barn and I know I have to move fast before Rowena shows up. I need to get Lisa to safety and get back in time to save Sam.

"Cas, a little help would be great," I mumble and I reach down to lift Lisa from her hay bed. I whip around at the sound of a familiar, sinister voice that breaks the silence.

"You chose the girl," Rowena croons. "My demonic minions and I had a wager going. They thought that you would choose your brother. I know that you Winchesters can't resist a damsel in distress."

"You said I could save her," I complain, and I hate how desperate I sound. I begrudgingly lay her back on the hay so I can be prepared to fight. I stand protectively in front of her as I reach for my gun. Without the fire, I'm hoping the the shots of witch-killing brew can actually reach the target.

"And you have," she coos. "She's alive. Just don't expect her to wake up."

"What?"

"Consider her a sort of Sleeping Beauty."

So that's the spell, like Claire with the mind of a small child and Jodi awake but not aware. Lisa has been cursed with a sleeping spell. A curse can be broken — with or without the witch who cast it. I draw my gun and begin fire off the shots. She manages to evade them all with a wave of her hand.

"Say goodbye to your brother," she says, pointing toward open doors of the barn and the clear view I have of the house.

I am forced to stand by helplessly as the house with my brother inside explodes.

The breath leaves my body and time slows to a crawl as I see plumes of smoke reach toward the sky and what little is left of the house is consumed by fire. I wonder momentarily if Sam even survived to see the explosion. I guess is doesn't matter now. He's gone and I couldn't save him. After months of fearing this very moment, and after the nightmares that predicted his death, I don't know what I feel.

I've shed more tears since I woke up from my coma than I have in my entire life before the Mark of Cain, but right now my eyes are dry. I suck in a breath and look back to the evil bitch. I have no time for crying or mourning and I let only one emotion take the forefront of them all. Rage.

Rowena can see it in my eyes and I feel a tinge of satisfaction when she flinches, even though it is only for a moment. She recovers quickly.

"Come on in, boys," she calls out, and about a half dozen demons enter the barn and encircle me and Lisa. I raise my angel blade, determined to take out as many as I can before she kills me.

"You fellas should know better than cross the King of Hell," I say as if I know something they don't. The truth is I haven't spoken to Crowley since the Mark was removed and I have no idea if he's aware of his rogue demons. "He can't be too happy with you guys."

"They know that my son's reign is coming to an end," Rowena replies, undaunted by my posturing. "They've lost confidence in their leader."

She moves closer to me as she asks, "Would you like to know your fate, Dean Winchester?"

"Not really." There's no need for me to be taunted by the witch. I don't really care what happens to me after Rowena is dead. Cas will take care of Lisa, just as he has Claire and Jodi. I have one aim here, and saving my own life isn't it. I'm at peace in sacrificing myself — especially since Sam is gone — as long as Rowena is defeated.

"Your little angel friend will certainly make an appearance any time now." She moving even closer to me know, and I stand ready to attack if she gets too close. I can't predict what's she's planning to do, and that makes me worried.

"You won't be needing that," she says with a wave of her hand and the angel blade flies from my hands. I reach for the gun again, hoping there's a bullet or two left. I fire a shot before than also flies from my hand.

The only thing left is the spell, which failed to work before. But with nothing else to lose, I recite the latin that should render her powerless.

A few words in, I feel my breath cut off — just as it was with Sam. I manage a few more words before I become lightheaded and fall to my knees. I spit out a few more words and I feel a pain rip through my abdomen.

Though gritted teeth, I keep saying the spell until I start spitting up blood. Still, word by word, I push myself to get the spell out of my mouth.

"You are a stubborn one," she says, almost sounding impressed. I don't stop. Each word is a struggle, but I keep going between gasps for breath and puking out blood.

The spell is only half spoken, and just as I think I've done all I can, an ear shattering sound invades the barn. I'll never forget the first time I heard it — not long after I climbed out of my own grave when I rescued from hell.

My entire body feels like it's being pulled apart and I think my eardrums may rupture, but I'm beyond grateful. The angelic calvary is coming.

* * *

xxxxXxxxx

* * *

I cover my eyes because I've learned over the years it's best not to look at the bright, white light of an angel. I lift my aching body off the ground and throw my upper body over Lisa so I can protect her as well.

When the rumble ceases, I dare to look up. Cas is finally here with two other angels — one of them is Daniel. As relieved as I am to see Cas, I'm more worried. I cast a glance at Rowena, who seems pleased. They've walked into a trap.

Daniel and the other angel attack the demons while Cas stands guard over me and Lisa. The shadow of his enormous wings are spread over us, and I know Rowena won't be able to touch us. But she can still get to Cas.

I look from Rowena to the battle between the six demons and the two angels. Daniel has killed one demon and is locked in a battle with one of another. I can tell that's this demon is stronger than the others. The angel I don't know quickly reduces the four remaining to smoke and ash.

My eyes move to Rowena, who still looks confident. I realize she planned to sacrifice these demons. She doesn't flinch when Daniel kills the last one.

When that demon lets out a final cry, Rowena springs into action. She waves her hand and recites a spell that causes Daniel and the third angel to fall, screaming in agony. What kind of spell can do that to an angel?

I can see Cas waver. He starts to move but locks himself in place so he can protect me and Lisa. I'm desperate to help, but I have no idea what to do. All my weapons are gone and the spell against Rowena was ineffective.

Though Cas is focused on the witch, he moves his eyes just for a moment to see his angel friends dead on the ground. He closes his eyes for a moment to push back whatever he's feeling and looks again to Rowena — strong and defiant.

As a image from one of my nightmares flashes in my head, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Cas will die. I have seen it in my dreams. Rowena will cast a spell and he will fall to it — fighting until the end.

"Just get out of here, Cas," I plead. "Take Lisa and go." I think I can fight off Rowena long enough so he can escape. What I can't do is lose someone else I care about.

He moves his gaze from Rowena to me. "I will never abandon you, Dean." He gives me a half smile before he looks again to the enemy. He grimaces in pain, but he doesn't move.

"Very magnanimous of you, Castiel," Rowena smirks. She raises her hands again, her lips reciting the words that took down the other angels. And Cas just stands there, letting her attack him.

"Fight!" I yell at him. "FIGHT!"

He ignores me as he stands there taking her punishment. It's either brave or foolish, and at the moment, I'm leaning toward the latter.

I look back a Lisa. She's still lying still — almost peacefully — on the hay. Rowena promised she wouldn't die. My eyes dart out to the burning house that became my brother's grave. Finally, I look back to Cas as he complacently receives the torture that Rowena unleashes on him.

With Sam gone, I have no reason to keep fighting — no reason to keep living. Cas is more important than me. He can save Lisa. He can continue to battle the evil. The only weapon I have left is myself. I can think of only one way to stop her from killing Cas.

In an act of desperation or perhaps inspiration — I'm not sure which — I hurl myself toward Rowena.


	20. Chapter 20

_AN: Thanks for sticking with me through this story. It's not quite over yet, but we're getting close._

* * *

 **Brave Enough**

A scream escapes my mouth as I leap toward Rowena. It's guttural, anguished sound and I can hardly recognize my own voice. It's followed by an astonished silence as I feel myself being slammed down against the haystack that holds Lisa.

I try to move but my body is frozen in place. The more I struggle, the heavier my limbs become. I think it's Rowena who's locking me in place but I see no sign that she even notices me. Cas, however, has one of his hands extended towards me. As his eyes cut to me, I realize it's him holding me down. He's saving me again, dammit. And I don't want to be saved. I want to save him.

"Let me go," I bark. The worst fate I can think of is being the only one to survive this nightmare.

Predictably, Cas doesn't listen — doesn't even acknowledge my demand. His body is starting to react to Rowena's spell, but she actually looks puzzled because it's not working faster. His grace is pushing the edge of his vessel and I'm afraid he might lose it at any moment. Yet he manages to push it back in.

Rowena's face hardens as she raises her voice. The grace edges out again. And again, Cas brings it back in. Cas _is_ fighting and he's winning.

"Come on. Come on. Come on," I mutter as I watch the grace ebb and flow from his vessel's mouth. My focus on Cas is so intense, I jump as a bloodcurdling scream escapes Rowena. I snap my head to the evil witch and I see a blade piercing through her back, a point sticking out of her abdomen. A look of shock is frozen on her face.

My breath comes out as sharp pants as I catch a glimpse of shaggy hair above Rowena. As she falls, my disbelieving eyes fall on her executioner — my brother who is alive and whole and holding the bloody blade.

xxxxXxxxx

Sam glowers down as his target with the intensity of battle still spread across his features. He has never found satisfaction in killing even though the kill was necessary. I'm aware that my mouth is hanging open, shocked that my brother didn't die. Shocked but so very grateful.

He raises his eyes from the dead witch on the ground to me. "Are you okay?"

I pull air into my lungs and push myself up from the hay bales and take several long strides to get to him. "Yeah," I breath out as I grab his shoulders, taking a look to see if he's hurt. I resist the strong urge I have to hug the crap out of him. "I am now. Are you?"

"Yeah," he assures me, patting my arm. "Cas saved me."

I suck in another breath remembering that Rowena was on the verge of killing Cas. I whip around to see if he's okay. He looks fine, still standing patiently in the same spot waiting for me and Sam to have a moment.

"You good?" I ask, moving a few steps toward him.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You heard me? To help Sam?"

"Of course," the angels says as if I shouldn't have expected anything less. And I shouldn't have.

Looking past Cas, my eyes widen at the presumed dead angels rising from the ground. Cas follows my gaze to them.

"Good work. We need to clear out the scene," he commands. The angels wordlessly obey and begin removing signs that anything had happened here.

"I thought Rowena killed them," I stammer out. I even saw the light flash and fade as they crumpled to the ground. "I thought she was about to kill _you_."

"It was a trap for her," Cas tells me. "Based on some more information Hannah received that Rowena found a spell to kill angels. We believed she perfected a way to override the marking locking my grace in this vessel, so we learned how to protect ourselves from her."

"Information?" My brain is still struggling to catch up. "What information? When?"

"It was after we talked in the safe house. We discovered how to block her from harming us," he says with a professional, almost detached tone. "But we had to make sure she believed her spell was effective."

I nod, but I'm still shaken by all of it. The only clue of my tenuous stability is my quickened breath. Cas notices that and relaxes his voice.

"I heard you pray," he says. "Each time, and I listened. I had to make sure that I could save not only Sam but you and Lisa. It had to be the right time or we couldn't have tricked Rowena."

"He reached me just in time," Sam adds. "The house exploded as soon as he got me out."

"We decided that if we occupied Rowena with battling a few angels, she wouldn't notice the human sneaking up behind her to kill her with the blade," Cas explains. "While she was focused on killing me, Sam had his best chance to strike."

That was a risky plan, especially for Sam. Rowena could have obliterated him with a snap of her fingers. But without Cas, Sam would already be dead. My eyes tear up again as I think about how close I came to losing everyone, but I blink them away because their planned worked. Sam and Cas are safe. Rowena is dead and at least Lisa is alive. I glance at her to see that she hasn't moved at all.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fill you in on the plan," Cas continues. He's concerned about how I'll hold up, I guess, considering holding up hasn't been something I've been really good at lately. "There wasn't time. I know you were trying to save me when you hurled yourself at Rowena. I had to stop you. I could not let you sacrifice yourself."

"I get it," I say. I can hear the roughness in my own voice. "You fellas did good."

Daniel interrupts our conversation and I see that the barn looks normal, except for the beautiful woman who is lying unconscious on the hay.

"The area is clean," Daniel is telling Cas. "Authorities will believe a gas leak caused the explosion in the house."

"Good," Cas responds, his professional demeanor back in place. I'm pleased for him that he's not such an outcast with the angels anymore — at least not all of them. "Make sure the Winchesters' car is ready for them at the safe house. We'll follow in a few minutes."

"What about Lisa?" I move to her again, worried about how Ben will react when he sees her this way. I don't know how I will be able to face him.

"I think I've figured out a way to save her," Cas announces. "It worked on Claire and Jodi."

I take note that Jodi is better and I feel more encouraged than ever. "Maybe you guys should fix her after I'm gone. I'm sure she doesn't want to see me."

"I'm not going to heal her," Cas clarifies. "You are."

xxxxxXxxxxx

I was dying. There was no question about that. When Dean left me in that house, I wanted him to believe that I would survive because he needed to keep fighting.

But I could feel myself slipping away.

I prayed to Cas to watch out for Dean, then I closed my eyes to let the darkness take me. It was only a few moments later I heard a quiet voice calling my name. Though my vision was blurry, I recognized Cas leaning over me.

I grabbed weakly at his trench coat. "You have to help Dean."

"We both will," Cas responded as he gripped my shoulders and lifted me out of that house. An explosion reached skyward following us as we ascended. It was a surreal moment — being carried out of that house and floating hundreds of feet above it. Looking at Cas — or more accurately, to look at his vessel — I forgot how powerful and how strong he is. For the past few years, Dean and I have treated Cas like little more than a socially awkward sidekick. We care about him, of course. He has and always will be one of the best friends we've ever had. We would die for him in a second. Yet there was a time when Castiel was a warrior in Heaven — a captain in the garrison. He has more wisdom than we give him credit for.

And I was helpless in his arms as he rescued me and took me to the safe house that held Ben, Jodi and Claire. We arrived almost instantly.

The pain eased when I left the farm house, but my body was still damaged. As Cas laid me on a couch that was too short for my long legs, I was vaguely aware of being surrounded by people — mostly angels.

One voice cut through the silence. "What about Dean?"

"Dean is going to be fine, Ben," Cas answered. "I promise."

I found comfort in this response to Ben because he still planned to save Dean. I relaxed a bit. Cas leaned down to check my injuries.

"Go help Dean," I answered. The pain in my body had settled down to a dull throb and I felt that maybe I would survive.

"We're going to get to Dean, but let me take care of you first," Cas replied as he laid his hand across my forehead. A split second of searing pain shot through my body before it eased again. I groaned then sucked in a breath. Then it was over. I was healed.

I sat up and pushed back the "thanks" that was on the tip of my tongue and I said "Dean" instead.

Cas kept a heavy hand on my shoulder to keep me seated. "I need you to listen to me. I need your help to save Dean and Lisa."

"Okay," I agreed eagerly as I tried to stand. He pushed me down again.

"Rowena is powerful, Sam. She has the upper hand. To save them, you must to understand what is expected of you. There will be no room for error."

So I listened and he was right about all of it. I needed to be patient enough to listen to the plan and to wait for the right moment to execute it. I needed to turn a blind eye to whatever state Dean would be in and do what I had to do.

As Rowena laid dead at my feet, Dean was a few steps away gaping at me still frozen in place on the ground.

The only time I nearly panicked was when he tried to throw himself at Rowena. I almost revealed myself to stop him. I could think of nothing worse than Dean sacrificing himself because he believed I was dead. But Cas pushed Dean back and allowed Rowena to torture him for another minute so I could sneak behind her and stab her.

She collapsed at my feet and I took a long moment to make sure that she wouldn't produce another piece of magic and rise again. Then I remembered my brother, willing to sacrifice himself to save Cas.

When I looked to him, he was still sitting against the hay, his mouth hanging open trying to process that Rowena was dead and I was alive. I saw it all over his face — he thought he lost me. I swallowed the thickness in my throat thinking how he must have felt when the house exploded. But he kept moving toward the ultimate goal of destroying Rowena and saving Lisa.

My big brother astounds me with his strength and courage. Even now, I can almost see his brain working to overcome his emotions and he talks to Cas. He almost succeeds, until he suggests that he run away while Cas heals Lisa.

"I'm not going to heal her. You are," Cas tells Dean, who nearly chokes.

"I can't …."

Though I knew that Jodi had been healed, there was no time to learn how. So I lean in closer as Cas explains to Dean why he is the only one who can make her better.

"Miranda suffered from one of Rowena's spells, which was broken when she kissed me," he starts.

"You told us that," Dean interrupts.

"But it had to be me," the angel clarifies. "She had to kiss _me_ to break the binding spell."

"But she died," I note.

"The remedy works differently on angels than humans. An angel's grace is not the same as a human soul. But it worked on Claire and Jodi. I'm confident that it will work on Lisa as well."

"Then _you_ fix her," Dean demands, pointing to the woman in the hay.

Cas ignores Dean's command as he continues to explain. "The spell on Claire was broken when I kissed her head — like her father might have kissed her."

When Dean starts to interrupt again, no doubt to reiterate that Cas is the one who can save Lisa, the angel holds up a hand to signal Dean to let him finish. "I tried it with Jodi — a kiss on the cheek. I thought perhaps making me the 'cure' was a cosmic joke on Rowena's part. But it's more complicated that that."

"What saved her?" I ask.

"A kiss from the one person she missed the most — loved the most. I touched her head and read her thoughts of who that person is to her. Her son, Owen."

I didn't bother to point out that her son had died seeing as whatever Cas did worked on Jodi.

"I asked Ben to kiss her check as if she were his mother," Cas says. "I thought perhaps they would have been about the same age had Owen lived. It was just an experiment, but it didn't work. She knew he wasn't her son."

"So …?" Dean asks, still unsure of how all of this related to him.

"Hannah arranged a trip to Heaven where Jodi could see Owen, and he gave her a kiss on her cheek — and a rather emotional hug. Hannah brought her back to the safe house where she awoke seconds later, believing that seeing her son had been a dream. But it was enough to heal her."

Dean's face pales as he glances toward Lisa. "So you're trying to say that Lisa will be saved if someone she loves kisses her?"

"I believe so," Cas acknowledges.

"Then Ben. I know she loves him more than anyone."

"It must be someone she loves who is no longer in her life. Someone she misses. Someone who who has left a hole in her heart," Cas explains, and I look to Dean to see if he's getting what Cas is saying.

"Miranda had feelings for me that I didn't return," he continues. "Claire missed her father, whose vessel I inhabit. For Jodi, it was her son, and Lisa …."

"It's not me." Dean shakes his head fiercely as he speaks, his voice husky. "I did nothing but hurt her. _She_ broke it off. She wanted me out of her life. Out of Ben's life."

"It's you, Dean," Cas insists, his voice gentle. "What other reason would she have been dreaming about you for the past few weeks."

"I think he's right," I tell my brother.

"No," Dean bites. The pallor of his face is unsettling as he tries to convince Cas that he's not the one who can save Lisa. "This is ridiculous. A kiss to wake up _Sleeping Beauty?_ Even Rowena wouldn't be that banal."

Cas shrugs as if to say that's exactly what she is. Ridiculous and banal.

"This isn't a fairy tale," my brother rants. "She's a woman who's been cursed. She needs something else." His voice lowers with his head. "She needs someone else."

"I believe Rowena intentionally chose a method that was so simple, it would be overlooked," the angel speculated. "She may have found it humorous. I don't know. But I do know this is all we have. If you refuse, Lisa may never wake up."

Dean pinches his eyes closed and groans. I search his face trying to understand why he's so resistant to at least trying this. I think that he locked up that part of himself for so long — the part who felt he could love and be loved by a woman. The closest thing he's had to a relationship since he left her was a string of one-night stands — and even those were fewer than he had before his life with Lisa and Ben.

After several moments, he moves to the hay bales and sits by her hip, seemingly torn between wanting it to work her and hoping it doesn't because that would mean she loves him. "I'm sorry I have to do this," he whispers as he leans forward and gives a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.

Dean leans back as we all watch Lisa to see if she will wake up. When she remains unresponsive, a myriad of emotions cross Dean's face. He settles on despair that his kiss didn't break the spell.

"Give it a minute," Cas says. "It's not always immediate."

"I told you. I'm not the one." Dean murmurs, his head bowed. Cas and I are now watching Dean as intently as we had been watching Lisa. I worry that he has used all his strength to get this far and has nothing left to face what comes next if this doesn't work.

Cas releases a small sigh, discouraged also.

It was a small, weak voice that brought all of our attention back the the woman on the hay.

"Dean," Lisa whispers, her eyes are open and fixed on my brother.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: The spell on Lisa as broken by Dean's kiss. I know that some of you don't care for Lisa and others like her. ( _Respectful_ criticism is fine with me.) Whichever side you fall on, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Many thanks to everyone who is hanging in there with me with this story. As always, thanks for the reviews. We're getting close to the end, but it's not quite there yet.

* * *

 **Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye**

The first time I met Lisa, we had an immediate connection. She was beautiful and daring and up for anything. I told myself that it was a weekend I would never forget because the sex was incredible. And it really was. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. _She_ was incredible.

I was only 20 years old and all I wanted from life was to hunt and to hook up with beautiful girls. Whiskey also was high on the list. Being in a relationship wasn't on my radar.

But Lisa left an impression on me for years. After I sold my soul to save Sam, I thought about her again. Sure, I remembered the sex. Given my state of mind back then — to cram as much into the time I had left — that was enough for me to find her. But honestly, I'd had plenty of great sex with a lot of great women. I could've chosen any of them.

Lisa was the one I couldn't forget.

She was as awesome as I remembered her to be — and she had a pretty great kid. As I realized the depth of my feelings for both of them, I knew I had to get out of there. I couldn't thrust myself back into their lives when I knew I had less than a year to live. Not even for one night. I couldn't bring darkness in their lives while I waited to go to hell.

The only thing I could do was keep fighting until the hellhounds came for me.

Though I knew I couldn't be with her, she became the embodiment of something I could never have. My life didn't allow me to have a family — and I was mostly okay with that. But sometimes, I thought about what it would be like to be normal and married and a dad. When I thought of that, Lisa was always the one who came to mind.

After Sam jumped in the cage with Lucifer, my life should have ended with his. If I couldn't save my brother, I wanted to die too. But I made a promise to him, so I sought Lisa out. And she let me in.

The first weeks with them, I was a wreck. I can't count the number of times I broke down or just shut down. But Lisa and Ben were patient and they made me a part of their family. And my feelings for her deepened.

Then I had to leave them.

For years, I buried my feelings for them. When the Mark of Cain was removed, those emotions came bubbling up to the surface — along with every other thing I tried to forget. The loss I felt was as raw as it was the day I left. The only consolation was that they were safe because they couldn't remember me.

Now, I'm watching her sleep. Except it isn't sleep. Cas is telling me that I am the only one who can save her from this spell because she still loves me, it feels like everything I had done to protect them was for nothing.

I'm desperate to save her, but I'm terrified, too. If it's me she loves, she and Ben will never be safe. Lisa will experience all the pain I caused her all over again. If it's not me, just the act of kissing her will be invasive. I have no right to do that to her, but I also have no choice.

Though I've tried to deny it, I guess I've never really gotten over her. My heart skips a few beats as I lean down to kiss her.

And nothing happens. My chest actually hurts because she's not better. And it hurts a little because it's proof that she doesn't love me. I squeeze my eyes shut because I can't save her. I can't save anyone any more. But Cas will find away. It's better this way.

It's her voice that brings me out of my selfishness and guilt. She's calling my name.

I raise my head and meet her gaze. "Hey, Lis," I say. The sheer relief I feel because she's awake causes my lips to tug into a smile. She smiles, too.

"You're here," she says as she tries to sit up. I take her hand and help her until we're looking at each other face to face.

What do I say to that? I had no choice but to come when she was in danger. Of course I'm here. "Yeah," is all I can manage.

She throws her arms around my shoulders and hugs me. Just when I think I've mastered keeping my emotions in check, she says "I've missed you."

With the damned tears filling my eyes again, I drop my face into her shoulder and hold her tight.

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

Sirens in the distance propel Cas into action. He pulls Sam close to me and while I am still holding Lisa, he touches our heads, sending us all back to the safe house. I release Lisa slowly as I realize where we are.

The sound of Ben's voice pulls Lisa's attention from me to her son. Their reunion is sweet, and I finally feel that everything I've been through has been worth just to see this moment between them.

After a few minutes, Ben breaks away from Lisa and rushes to me, hugging me just as tightly as he did her. "I knew you would save her," he says with more gratitude than I deserve. "Thank you."

"Sam and Cas really saved the day," I tell him.

"But Mom is back because of you." He is undaunted by my diffidence. Sam and Cas both brush off the enthusiastic thank you he gives them as well.

I sag at the pronouncement that it's time for Lisa and Ben to go home. But I'm more shocked when Cas tells me that I should see them home safely.

"I don't even know where we are now," I protest.

"Sam will be waiting for you in this hotel," he says as he hands me an address. "The Impala is already at Lisa's house."

I look at Cas as if he's lost his mind, and then to Sam for some back up.

Sam moves towards me, puts an arm around my shoulder and talks to me quietly so no one else will here. "You have some unfinished business with Lisa and Ben, even if it's to give them a proper goodbye this time. I robbed you of that before."

"Sam, you didn't …."

"Either way," he stops me. "You need a chance to talk things out. I think we've been through enough with Cas to trust him on this."

I couldn't argue that I owed it to Cas to trust him. I don't know why the thought of spending more time with Lisa and Ben frightens me so much. Well, I guess I do know. The more time I spend with them, the harder it will be to leave. But I owe them, too, for putting them in harm's way.

"You'll be okay?" I ask Sam.

"I'll be fine," he promises, and he sounds sure. "I'll wait for you in the hotel. Take as long as you need."

"Alright, Cas," I relent. "Let's hit the road."

"You'll actually be hitting the air," Cas explains unnecessarily. He has always been too literal, but there's something oddly comforting about that. Especially right now. It's the one thing that hasn't changed on me in the last few months.

He instructs me to put one arm around Lisa and another on Ben. This seems suspiciously like a setup, but I obey. He touches my forehead again and in an instant, we're at their house in Michigan. It's dark outside and very late. A wall clock reveals that it's just after midnight.

They both move away slowly and we just stare at each other, not knowing what to say. That's ironic because I have a lot I want to say to both of them. But Ben looks like he could drop at any moment. Unlike Lisa, he hasn't been sleeping for days. I could use some time to hash things out with her first.

"Buddy," I say to Ben. "Why don't you get some sleep."

"No," he's quick to object. "Not while you're here."

"Hey," I put a hand on his shoulder. "I won't leave town without talking to you."

"I'll hold him to that," Lisa tells him. "You can have a better conversation with him when you're rested."

He's tired enough that he agrees, but not before eliciting a promise from me. "You swear?"

"Yes, I swear."

When the boy leaves, I turn to the mother, again not knowing how to say the things I want to say. I open my mouth to tell her the only thing that matters. "I'm sorry."

Her gaze melts as she listens to me. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do. For so many things," I'm insist. I feel the beginnings of a panic attack at the thought of having this conversation with her, so I take a deep breath. I've learned to control the attacks, but I wish they would go away completely. I have get the words out so we all can move on.

"Mostly I'm sorry that I selfishly came into your lives and turned you upside down. None of this would have happened if I just …."

"Stop." She rushes to me, putting her hand on my chest as if she's trying to calm me. I guess I can't even hide my anxiety. "The year I spent with you was the best year of my life. That hasn't changed. We loved you, Dean. And having you with us made us better."

"And after I left? Were you better then?" I challenge her as I step away from the comfort of her touch. "Were you better when a demon kidnapped you to get to me? Were you better when the witch put that sleeping spell on you? What could be better by you knowing me?"

"So you made us forget you?" She keeps the distance I put between us, but her voice is even. "You thought we would okay after that? Let me tell you what life was like for me." I see a flicker of indignation in her eyes. Whatever she's about to say can't be good.

"I always felt that something was missing, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. One day I had a car accident and the next, I felt something was off. I've had a few relationships, but nothing lasted because I was comparing everyone I dated to someone I couldn't even remember. Your imprint on our lives was so strong that even though I could forget you, I couldn't forget what you were to me."

"I thought I was helping you," I say in a weak effort to explain. "I thought you would be safer."

"Was I? Were _we_ safer?" She didn't intend to sound brutal but her eyes reveal a touch of anger.

"No," I admit, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. I want to lower my head in shame for how I treated them but I'm determined to man up here. "I am sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. As happy as you made us, I'm sorry we couldn't make you happy."

"You did. I was happy with you. I just wasn't …." I sigh, unable to explain how I felt. But, truthfully, I wasn't happy because my brother was locked away with the devil in hell. I was unhappy because my days were filled with menial tasks compared to the job I once had of saving people from the things that no one else could save them from. I was unhappy because my life was without purpose. I simply existed. And I was unhappy because none of it was in my control.

The only scrap of happiness I found was from Lisa and Ben. When I dragged myself out of bed every morning to head to a job I hated, it was the coming home to them that helped me survive. 'I loved you both very much. You have to know that."

"I do know. And I understand what you've been through," Lisa assures me. "The dreams I had. They made me see what you were going through and why saving Sam was so important to you."

I bite my tongue at my standard reply that Sam is my little brother. It was my job to take care of him. The day I moved in with this family, it was my job to take care of them. I failed at that, too.

"What did you dream?" I ask. I'm afraid that she's seen the worst of me — worse than being turned by a vampire and pushing Ben. Worse than the drinking and the nightmares when I lived with them. I'm scared she has seen me as a rampaging murderer thanks to the Mark of Cain and that she saw my eyes turn black as a demon. Perhaps worst of all, I'm afraid she has seen me as a weak shell of the man I used to be after the Mark was removed.

"At first, I had dreams about us. When we first met. When you showed up at my door almost 9 years later and not only believing but hoping that Ben was your son. I didn't know it then, but that's when I fell for you."

My lips tilt into a half-smile, remembering being worried that I had a son, but disappointed that he wasn't mine. Family was — is — so important to me. Dad taught me that above all else. Something about having another connection in this world made me hope for just a second that it was true about Ben. It was better, of course, not to have a child because of my life as a hunter. I have my own screwed up childhood to help me see that.

"Then there was the day you showed up at my door again, telling me that I was someone you could spend your life with." Tears filled her eyes at this point, and I look away. "Then you left because you were about to sacrifice yourself in some horrible way. I didn't know who you were or why I kept dreaming about you, but it was like I was losing someone I cared about. I dreamed about you showing up at my door again, broken and grieving for your brother. I remembered not only letting you into my house, but you letting me into your heart. You let me comfort you."

My eyes burn at the memory of that day. She has no idea that she saved me. I would've died if I didn't have her. But that wasn't the worst of what's become of my life. So I have to ask, "Is that it? All of it?"

"I had other dreams that showed me things about your past before you met us and some about what happened after you left."

My stomach plummets. This is what I hoped didn't happen — that she would see me for who I really am.

"I saw you lose your mother and take on the responsibility for your little brother," she tells me, a shadow of a smile in her eyes. "You were so sweet to him."

"He needed me to take care of him," I say.

"I know. You were so young, but you …." Her voice fades away. "I understand why you risked so much for him. Why it was so hard for you to lose him. It's how I would feel if I lost Ben. You took care of Sam for so long, it's hard to turn that off just because he grew up."

"Yeah," I say, remembering what she said to me when she dumped me. As long as Sam was in my life, I would never be happy. ' _You two have the most unhealthy, tangled up, crazy thing that I that have even seen.'_

She wasn't the first to call my relationship with Sam co-dependent. But we were all each other had for most of our lives. And we've been through a lot of crap that most people would never understand. But she wasn't completely wrong. Images flash in my head of allowing Sam to get possessed by a crazy, lying angel who killed Kevin because of me. And I remember Sam pushing so hard to get the Mark off my arm that the most malicious force in the universe was almost released.

I remember that my brother deserved so much more than me dragging him around to hunt so I wouldn't be alone. So it was me — the crazy, tangled up one. Everything see said was true, but it's all about me, not Sam. I don't realize how close she is to me until she touches my face.

"I'm saying I get it," she tells me softly.

I swallow hard. I'm not here to talk about my relationship with Sam. "What else did you see?"

"I saw some of the things you fight." Her voice is timid and I can imagine how bad it must have been for her to see some of the truly awful monsters out there. She seems hesitant to say more.

"Please," I press.

"I saw you get turned by a vampire, and your brother allowed it to happen."

I let out a long breath.

"That was just before you came here that night. Why you pushed Ben."

"I'm sorry." I feel like I should keep apologizing. I endangered them because I wanted to say goodbye. "You need to know that wasn't really Sam. He was …."

"Soulless. Yeah, I saw that too. I saw what you did to save him."

"He didn't deserve to be left in that cage with the devil," I explain. "I had to …"

"I know."

"Was that it?" I keep asking because I know that's still not the worst of what has happened to us.

"Your angel friend betrayed you. You spent a year in purgatory. Sam didn't look for you and you came back a little … bitter … and with a vampire for a friend."

I rub a hand across my head as she summarizes her dreams — my life. All of these things are so hard to explain — like why I considered a vampire such a close friend. So I don't try.

"Sam tried to close the gates of hell, but you stopped him because you couldn't let him die. You let an angel possess him to heal him and he was angry about that. And you were so angry with yourself that got a mark on your arm."

God. She's seen it all. I don't know how she can bear to look at me.

"And that's it," she finishes.

"What? You didn't see what I did with the Mark?"

"You planned to kill a powerful demon. Did you?"

"Yeah," I mutter. "But you didn't see it?"

"No. That was the last dream I had before I was kidnapped by the witch. I don't remember dreaming at all after that. Do you still have the mark?"

I pull up my sleeve to show her a clear arm. "No, thank God. It was bad, Lisa. The things I did. And getting it off nearly did me in. If it wasn't for Sam and Cas, I wouldn't have made it. But it messed me up and I wanted to quit hunting. I wanted to make it all stop but …."

"But you came to save me," she finishes for me.

"Pretty much, yeah. I couldn't let you suffer because of me. I would never let that happen."

"So quit now," she says as if it's like simply moving to a new house or getting a new job.

"I can't, Lisa," I choke out. As hard as I'm trying to hold it together, I'm slipping. "There's no getting away from this life. It finds me. Every time. It finds me and it won't let me go."

Her hand is caressing my cheek as she gently wipes away the few tears that escape. I back away because I don't want to be comforted. "I'm sorry," I say yet again as I rub my hand across my eyes. I don't want to fall apart on her again.

"Dean," she steps closer and leans up to rub her lips against my cheek. "Do you still love us? Do you love me?"

"Yes," I groan. "God help me, but yes."

"Then stay," she murmurs, her breath hot on my skin.

"I can't. I won't put you in danger again. I can't hurt you again."

"Just tonight. Please."

I look at her pleading eyes. I was afraid that leaving would be too difficult if I stayed too long. It's damned near impossible. The memory of her lying comatose reminds me why this isn't a good idea. Still, I want to stay more than anything.

"Lisa …"

"Just one night," she begs. I know how she feels about me. That my kiss saved her proves that. I shouldn't give her false hope. It's too late for me to have a woman like her — to have this kind of life. But she keeps pleading, "Just tonight."

My body is reacting to being so close to her and I can't resist. I give her an answer by crushing my mouth into hers. I don't know if it's right or wrong, and at this moment I don't care. I pick her up and carry her into her room. If she wants one night with me, it will be one she'll never forget.


	22. Chapter 22

**An Angel's Work Is Never Done**

* * *

I fly Sam to the motel near Lisa's house. It's an upgrade from their usual dwellings. It's not luxurious, but it's clean and comfortable and has a mini-bar. I thought Sam might appreciate that while he waits for Dean.

I take one of the bourbon bottles and pour him a glass.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"How are you, Sam?"

"I'm tired," he says as he sits on the edge of a bed. "Exhausted really. It's been a long few months."

"Dean seems better. He fought his way through this battle."

"Yeah," he says, offering a weak smile. "I think he'll be okay."

I hope so. When I suggested he take Lisa and Ben home, the feelings I sensed from him were not good. He's ridden with guilt still. And I think he was actually afraid to talk to Lisa. I had hoped that being with her would allow him to let go of the guilt but I am anxious to check on him.

First, I promised to take care of Sam. "Are you hungry?"

"No. Thanks," he answers as he pulls off his flannel shirt revealing a grey t-shirt that's smudged with ash and blood. "I just need some sleep, but I need to wait for Dean in case it doesn't go well.

"I'll take care of Dean," I promise. Sam meets my gaze, his tired eyes look at me hopefully. "I think he'll be awhile. He would want you to get some rest."

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, still some hesitancy in his voice. Despite his fatigue, he wants to ready to help his brother. "But you'll let me know if he needs me?"

"Of course," I promise. With Sam sleeping, it will give me the chance to check on Dean. "Shall I help you undress."

"No," Sam answers quickly. "I got it. Thanks."

I sense he wants privacy, so I pop out for a few minutes and wait in the hallway until I can make sure he's asleep. Then I fly to Lisa's house and find Dean in another emotional conversation with her.

He's upset, but he's mostly in control. Lisa is asking him to stay for the night. When he kisses her, I take my leave. I know wouldn't want me to be here, so I plan to wait outside, close by if needs me. However, I am commanded to return to Heaven. I hesitate only a moment. Dean should be fine while he's with Lisa. I find myself again standing in Heaven's garden with Joshua.

"Sit, Castiel," the angel instructs me, nodding toward a bench that I have never seen in this garden before. I keep my eyes on Joshua as I obey.

"I remember the first time God addressed me directly," he says, lowering himself on the bench. "It was overwhelming."

I wish I could imagine that, but honestly I can't. God has never spoken to me.

"It's not really a voice, Castiel," he goes on. "It's more of a sensation — a feeling. Something from deep inside and, at the same time, something that it's so far removed that I didn't understand it."

I find myself listening intently as he describe his first conversation, feeling perhaps envious that he's had the opportunity to hear from our Father. Yet I know that I am far from worthy of such an encounter.

"How did you know it was God speaking?" I ask.

"I just knew."

I dare not ask what God said, though I wonder. I feel so distant from my Father than I crave anything that will tell me more about him.

"I wanted to prepare you," Joshua adds.

"Prepare me for what?"

Joshua has no time to answer as I am immersed in an indescribable sensation of warmth, love and immense fear. Instructions are flowing through my grace. I understand things that I've never understood before. Though many questions remain unanswered, I see what I need to see for this moment. I may never have all the answers, but I have the one thing I've longed for since I fell from Heaven to help stop the apocalypse. I have direction from God himself.

I know who caused the dreams that revealed so much to the Winchesters. I understand why they dreamed those things and what God hopes the outcome to be. I know what the Winchesters' final mission is and I know what God expects of me for I also have a new mission.

It seems like only a flash of time has passed when the sensation is lifted and I find myself kneeling on the ground with my head bowed. I'm trembling as I look up to Joshua, who standing now with his head raised. I know instinctively that he also is receiving instruction from God. After a moment, he pulls his head down me look at me.

"Do you understand, Castiel?" he asks.

"Yes."

"You know what you must do first?"

I nod. "But what if they refuse?"

"Then they refuse. It is their choice."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

I open my eyes, feeling better than I have in more than a year. I glance around me, remembering where I am and how I got here. Lisa is lying beside me, her eyes open with just the street light shining through the window to illuminate her face."Hey," I whisper.

"Hey."

"You're not sleeping."

"I've gotten enough sleep the past few days. I'd rather watch you while I can."

My chest tightens as I remember I have to leave. I look past her to the clock on her bedside table. It's just before 5 am, and I know I need to be out of here before Ben wakes up. I don't want him to think I'm staying for good. That would make leaving more difficult for everyone.

"You have to go," she says, resigned but heartbroken.

"I'll be back to say goodbye to Ben, but yeah, I should go."

And I really _should_ go, but neither of us move. And when we do, its towards each other. We make love again, just once more. This time is as gentle as the last time was intense. Afterward, I lie on top of her just a little longer than I should.

When I get up to dress, she watches me with tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't regret any of it," she says. "The time we spent together."

"Neither do I," I say, and I mostly mean that. I will always regret hurting her and putting them in danger, but I will never regret being part of this family for the time that it lasted.

When I arrive back at the motel, Sam is still sleeping and Cas is sitting in a chair watching him.

"That's creepy, Cas," I say in a whisper so we don't wake my brother.

"I just got here," Cas answers. "I checked on your first, then I came here to wait."

"What?" I'm not happy that he watched me while I was with Lisa. "What did you see?" I ask, annoyed. Angry. Frustrated. So many emotions are swirling through me, so I just settle on the hostility I feel — have been feeling for a while — for losing the sense of who I am.

"You were sleeping," he says, his eyes crinkling with concern that he upset me.

"Privacy, Cas."

"It was just for a second, Dean. I am still your guardian even though you're better. You're not completely healed and I had to make sure you were okay."

I rub a hand across my eyes wondering when I'll be well enough for things to get back to normal. Even Cas looks at me differently than he used to. "I just stood up to Rowena," I snap. "Don't you think I can handle being with a woman alone?"

"Of course," Cas replies, "which is why I didn't keep watch."

"Thank God for that," I say sharply.

"Guys." Sam's voice cuts through our bickering. We both snap our heads to his direction. He's sitting up in bed, looking groggy like he was just awakened from a deep sleep — which he was because Cas and I were arguing.

"Sorry we woke you, Sam," Cas says, and he sounds truly remorseful. "And Dean, I was only there a few seconds. I didn't see anything intimate. I wouldn't do that."

"Yeah," I sigh. "Okay." We've all been through too much to be arguing now. Cas looks worried, and that worries me. I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall because there's always another shoe.

"You just get back?" Sam asks as he pulls the covers off and swings his legs off the bed.

"Yeah."

"You stayed with Lisa all night?" He gives me a bleary look, but I can tell that he's hopeful.

"Most of it. Yeah," I say, not sounding as cheerful as he thinks I should be. I move the focus from myself because I really can't talk about it. "Are you okay?"

"I feel good," he says, rising and stretching. He does look much better. Since he killed Rowena, a weight was lifted from him. I can see the difference in his demeanor. He even is unconcerned that Cas was watching him as he slept. "Did you have a good talk with Lisa?"

Damn. He's back to just what I don't want to talk about. But at my silence, concern creeps into his features. "You said we needed closure. I guess we got it."

"Oh."

"I have to go back to say goodbye to Ben. I promised him. So …."

"Yeah, ok," he mutters, letting the subject drop. But that's when I notice that Cas has been staring at me in his intense sort of way. I pull my attention to him. I can tell he has something big to say, and I honestly don't think I have the strength for whatever it is.

"I'm grabbing a shower," I say, cutting off any more conversation as I disappear into the bathroom.

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

The first sounds I hear are of Dean snapping at Cas and the angel calmly trying to defend himself. I force my eyes open and turn my wrist to see the watch on my arm. It's about 6 a.m. and too damn early for an argument.

Dean is fully dressed standing near the door while Cas is in a desk chair in the corner of the room. Their words are slowly sinking in. Cas had been watching Dean while he was with Lisa.

"Guys," I call out. 'Please shut up' are the words I want to say but don't.

I feel pretty good after six hours of sleep. A couple of more would have been nice, but I can function on a lot less. The guys smooth things over I think because they feel bad about waking me. It's not a bad thing that Dean can bicker with Cas again. It means he's getting back to normal. I'm more encouraged that Dean actually spent the night with Lisa. It's been months, maybe longer, since he's been with anybody.

Yet, I get a sinking feeling at Dean's sullen demeanor. It means that, regardless of what he says or isn't saying, it didn't go well with Lisa. Maybe it's because I feel responsible for their breakup, I was hoping that they could reconnect again.

I let him have the first shot into the bathroom even though I am huge need of a shower myself. I was too exhausted to take one last night. But I'm happy to let him go first. Now that Rowena is dead, I can focus on him again.

After the door to the bathroom slams, I hear a small sigh from Cas.

"What is it?" I ask. I know he can sense things in us, and I assume he senses something in Dean.

"I hoped he and Lisa would have …."

"Yeah. Me too."

After that, the angel is quiet. He asks me how I'm feeling, really feeling. I tell him I'm really fine, but that I'm still worried about Dean. He nods, indicating that he is as well. We don't talk after that. Cas has something on his mind, but he's not sharing and I don't press.

After Dean emerges from the bathroom, I rush in to take my shower. Whatever Cas has to say, I'd like to be ready to deal with it. That means a shower and some food. So I ignore the tension emanating for him until then. When I come out, an assortment of breakfast foods and coffee are waiting, I assume courtesy of our guardian angel. I mutter a thanks as Dean hands me a coffee. Our eyes connect for a moment, and I can tell he sees the same thing in Cas that I do.

I shrug, hoping that Dean's ready for whatever is about to happen. He nods, blinks and turns back to the angel.

"So what's the word, Cas?" he asks with his jaw set waiting for what he must think is the next disaster that we have to fix.

"The word?"

"What's going on?" I clarify. "Something's up. Rowena is really dead, right?"

"Yes, of course," he answers.

"Then what is it, man?" Dean has reached the limits of his patience. "What's wrong now? Do we have another battle to fight? Is something after us? What is it?"

Cas opens his mouth to speak and clamps it shut again. Then he sighs again and stares at both of us as if we could disappear any moment. A bad feeling creeps over me as Cas struggles to tell us what's wrong.

"I love you guys," he finally says, and Dean takes a full step back. He looks as if he could have handled another threat to the world easier than Cas expressing that sentiment to us right now.

"We love you, too," I say, letting Dean off the hook. I guess this whole ordeal has been as has been as hard on Cas as it has been for us. Though it feels awkward saying the words to Cas, it's nonetheless true. I know that Dean and I feel the same way. He's our brother.

"No one else, in Heaven or on Earth, are more like family to me that you are," Cas continues.

That comment gets Dean attention and he moves closer to the angel again. He has true concern in his voice when he speaks. "What going on, Cas? Have the angels threatened you? Are you in danger?"

And just like that, my brother is ready to fight again. He always is ready to protect the people he loves — no matter what he's going through. He did it for me, and for Ben and Lisa, and he's ready to do it for Cas.

"No," Cas says quickly. "Nothing like that. I'm actually …," he pauses and blows out a breath. "God has given me another assignment."

"So you're leaving," Dean says with a snort. "Of course."

"That depends on you," Cas says, his focus completely on Dean for a moment before he turns to look at me. "And you, Sam."

"You want my permission? You got it. Just go," Dean retorts gruffly. He backs away as he swipes a hand through his hair. I'm torn between trying to understand what Cas is telling us and trying to decipher why my brother is indignant by this news. Cas was sent to watch over us and now the danger is over, why wouldn't we expect that he move on to something else. He is an angel, and his presence in our lives has always been erratic. Since he helped defeat Rowena, I would hope that he's off the angel blacklist.

"Back up, Cas," I say. "God has given you a new assignment but only if we let you? I don't get it."

"My assignment will depend on what you choose to do."

"Dammit, Cas," Dean snipes. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

I'm also exasperated with the vague answers that actually bring up more questions. I watch Cas as he looks from Dean to me and back to Dean. I feel as impatient as my brother does. Finally, when he speaks, what he says leaves both us speechless.

"You two need to decide if you want to quit hunting."


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Dean and Sam have a choice in front of them. Should they quit hunting? It's a complicated question and a longer than usual chapter. Thanks for your reviews, favs and follows. And thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **The Choice**

I watch the faces of my friends as I as I tell them they have a choice to make — to keep hunting. Keep fighting monsters. Keep getting smacked down by the evil in the world. Or stop and live a normal life.

I tell them that my new mission depends on what they decide, but I don't tell them that one of my choices is to disobey God. After millennia of wanting nothing more than to have him communicate with me, it's lunacy to consider disobedience. All I know is I don't want to leave them alone fighting evil. I think that perhaps God will understand, but he has given me another chance. If I disobey now, I fear I will always be an outcast in Heaven.

Sam is pensive as he watches his brother's reaction. Dean is predictably belligerent.

"Quit hunting?" he snaps. "Are you out of your mind? There's no quittin'."

Dean is bitter, and I understand why. I keep my voice calm in hopes of making him listen. "There is a way."

"Do you remember the Djinn? Or Rowena kidnapping Lisa? Or when Sam tried to get out, his girlfriend ended up toasted on the ceiling." Sam flinches when Dean mentions Jessica, but he remains quiet. The older sibling keeps ranting. "Why are you suggesting it? What do you …? Maybe you want us out of the way."

The comment stings more than I care to admit. I only want what's best for them. I believe Sam could find happiness in the ordinary life. But Dean has never been happy with the ordinary. Though it's equally true that in recent years, he has been miserable with his life of hunting as well.

"Dean …," Sam chides.

"I just …." Dean starts before clamping his mouth shut. He adds a "sorry" before plopping down on the bed.

"Start from the beginning," Sam says. "We need to understand what you're saying."

I'm not sure what the true beginning of this story is, so I start with what happened last night. I tell them that I was checking on Dean at Lisa's when I was called to Heaven. God spoke to me.

"He _spoke_ to _you_ ," Dean scoffs, which draws a glare from the younger brother.

"Sorry," he yields, holding up his hands.

I don't have the words to describe how God communicated to me, so I don't try. "He spoke to me. He told me that because I have love and empathy for humans, he has a new assignment for me. He wants to make me an archangel in charge of humanity."

"An archangel?" This time it's Sam who speaks, and he sounds astonished. Dean is staring at me with his eyes wide. I realize their experiences with archangels have not been good. Lucifer and Michael wanted to use them as vessels to fight the apocalypse. Gabriel toyed with them and Raphael wanted to kill them.

"I don't understand why God has chosen me. I've been nothing more than a screw up." I lower my head feeling the same inadequacy I had felt during the encounter in the garden. They have every reason to be skeptical of this — of me.

"He chose the right guy," Dean says quietly. I whip my head up to see the sincere look on his face. "We would never ask you to pass that up."

"He's right Cas," Sam adds. "You deserve this. No other angel could do the job the way you can."

"I don't consider this a promotion," I have to clarify. The thought of becoming an archangel — a leader — frightens me. I don't have a good track record when it comes to leading other angels. "It's a duty — a responsibility."

"My guess is that's why God chose you," Dean says. "You're not a dick."

I'm stunned into momentary silence by Dean's comment — a compliment coming from him. "Thank you," I say. I still feel inadequate for this task, but I am touched by the Winchesters' approval.

"Man, you do what you need to do. That doesn't mean we have to quit hunting," Dean tells me. "I mean — you know — we were doing this long before we met you. We'll keep trudging on, I suppose."

I notice that he doesn't sound enthused by that, and Sam is keeping a tight lip on the subject.

"But you don't have to 'keep trudging' if you don't want to," I tell them. "You _can_ quit … if you want to."

"Nah," Dean stands and shuffles across the room when he sees the minibar. Sam and I both note the time — not even 7 a.m. But Dean doesn't notice or he doesn't care. "It's too late for me. Sam can …."

"I'm not leaving you, Dean," Sam cuts in, his voice a bit louder than it should be causing Dean to turn to face him, the unopened bottle in his hand. Sam yanks the whiskey away from him. "You keep hunting. I keep hunting."

Dean's eyes follow the bottle as his brother tosses it onto the bed and back to Sam. Then he turns to grab another bottle — this time vodka.

Sam huffs in exasperation but he doesn't take it away. "The bigger point is that it's not too late. You wanted to quit just days ago. You can still stop now. It's better than drinking at 7 o'clock in the morning because it's too painful to think about your life as a hunter."

"That's not why I'm drinking," he mutters and as he twists the cap off and pours the liquid into a glass.

"So you can say goodbye to the boy who's been like a son to you." Sam is relentless, and Dean grimaces at the comment, but he drinks anyway. He winces at the burn it causes. His eyes are hard when he looks at Sam again.

"Do you really want him to see you like this?" Sam pushes, and I am afraid he's pushing too hard. But I understand why, so I don't intervene.

Dean defiantly takes another sip, causing Sam to turn way with a growl. Only then does Dean drop his head and set the glass on the table. I step towards Dean and end up standing between the brothers. I look from Sam — his head high and locked in place staring at a wall — and Dean — his head low, staring the floor.

"It's not too late, Dean," I say, "because _God_ is offering you a way out." Sam turns back to me as Dean raises up his head.

"What?" Sam asks.

"God is offering you a way," I say again, pivoting my head from one side of the room to the other, from brother to brother. I lock eyes with Sam, tilting my head toward Dean, imploring Sam to stand with his brother. He does, but Dean doesn't acknowledge him. Both brothers wait for me to explain.

"You two have sacrificed your entire lives save people from the evil beings. You've sacrificed yourselves to save the world. God has noticed."

Dean grumbles and picks up the glass again. "Quit? And then what? Wait for all these monsters to find us? Find the people we love?" He sucks down the contents of the glass and adds sourly, "There's no way out."

"No monsters will find you. No witches. No demons. Not even the King of Hell will find you. God has promised …."

Oh, God promised," Dean bites, any trace of despondency gone. His jaw is set in anger. "The same God who left us to deal with Lucifer alone? The one who left Heaven and let the arrogant son of a bitch archangels try to destroy the world and let my little brother spend more than a year in Hell being tortured by Lucifer and Michael."

"Dean …," I start, but I don't know how to pull him back in — how to make him understand that although I don't know where my Father was or why he left Heaven, I do have faith now that the brothers will be safe if they choose to have normal lives. I expected some resistance. I even expected conflicted emotions. But I did not expect this level of bitterness from Dean.

"The same God who allowed me to remove the Mark from your arm and kept the Darkness locked away," I say. Dean bristles at my retort and absently rubs the spot where the mark used to be.

"Hey," Sam intervenes. I sense his worry while he approaches Dean as if he were a wounded animal who might strike out at any moment. He raises his hand and slowly plants it Dean's shoulder. "Take it easy. Okay? Cas is delivering a message. Let's just take a moment to listen."

"You listen," Dean answers, his voice full of desperation. " _You_ listen to him and find a way out. You go. _You_ can have a normal life."

"I am not leaving you," Sam says again, punctuating each word. "If you want to stay in, I'm in. End of story. But if you choose that, make sure it's really what you want. Don't let yourself believe that you can't get out."

"I can't get out, Sammy. If I haven't learned anything else these past few days, I've learned that."

"We can go back to the island. You were happy there," Sam suggests.

"I wasn't happy," Dean admits weakly. "I just got good at pretending."

That comment hits both Sam and me like a battering ram. Sam's face slackens and he looks away, tears filling his eyes. He blinks them back and faces his distraught brother again.

"If nothing else, we owe it to Cas to listen to him, after everything he's done for us."

Dean releases a long breath, his shoulders slumped. "Okay," he mutters. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Don't apologize. I understand," I say. I wish I had the magic words that would make Dean comprehend the magnitude of the gift that's being offered. But all I can do is tell them is what I know. I nod towards the beds. "You should sit."

Sam immediately sits at the foot of one bed, and after a pause, Dean moves the edge of the other bed, still made because he didn't sleep in it last night. I pull up a chair facing the space between the two beds looking at the brothers. I decide that Dean may need to hear more than 'God said', so I start again.

"After we stopped the apocalypse, I thought I was favored by God. He restored me to better than new. I believed that I had a mission to change Heaven. I was full of false pride because _I_ didn't stop the apocalypse. You did."

I see both of the brothers ready to defend me. Ready to tell me that I had an important role. But I hold up a hand begging them to let me finish.

"You two were the heroes. Sam, you made the most immense sacrifice I had ever seen, and Dean, you gave him the strength to do it. Just letting him go was a huge sacrifice for you. I was just a helper. I've always been better as a servant than a leader. And if I was any help at all, it was because of you, Dean. Your persistence, your bravery, and your love for your family inspired me in ways that you may never know."

I expect Dean, a man who doesn't easily accept accolades, to look away now. But he maintains his gaze, his emotions locked tight.

"Since then, I've done nothing but mishandle everything," I press on. "My intentions were good. I thought I was right, but everything turned out so badly. From bringing Sam out of Hell without his soul to releasing the Leviathan on the world to killing so many …." My voice fades away now as I remember the truly awful things I had done. "So many angels and humans …," I choke out. The weight of that, more than any other of my transgressions, still plagues me. It takes me a few moments to find my voice again. "Let's not forget Metatron and causing the angels to fall from Heaven."

I look away from them, not sure if I can continue. The brothers remain patient while I struggle to keep telling my story. "So when Joshua called me to Heaven to give me a message from God — the message that I needed to look out for you," I say, looking between the brothers before settling my eyes on Dean. "Help you heal. Help you become strong again, I was more than honored. I thought I was chosen because of my friendship with you. And I wanted so badly to help. So I followed orders and I pulled the Mark off of your arm. Even if God had not commanded me to watch after you, I would've had done it. I would have done anything for you."

Though Sam has been watching me with empathy, Dean's icy stare begins to thaw. He wants to speak, but he doesn't because he promised to listen.

"But he did command it because he sees value in you both. I would have looked out for you for the rest of your lives, but God has another plan. I was called to Heaven again, expecting to hear God's message from Joshua." I pause, still overwhelmed by the encounter. As I rub a hand over my eyes, I am surprised to find moisture on my fingertips. I didn't know that I could even produce tears. I swipe at my eyes again so I can continue.

"But it wasn't Joshua who gave me the message," I say with a much hoarser voice than normal for me. "God spoke to _me._ He forgave me for what I had done and told me that I have a larger mission. The first was that I would watch over not only you, but watch over all humankind — his creation. And, as an archangel, I would lead other specially chosen angels in doing so. Then he gave me another mission — to tell you that your work is done. You can have a chance to live a normal life if you wish."

Dean looks away again, obviously still not convinced that he can have or perhaps even wants the ordinary life. I think I see hope in Sam's eyes.

"He promised you a life without supernatural interference. He promised to protect you and any families you will have from the things you've spent years fighting."

"How?" Dean asks.

"Because he's God and he can," I say. Dean shrugs, still skeptical but accepting of my answer.

"You have the opportunity to live a life filled with love and family and happiness," I explain. "A life like anyone else. And like everyone else, you'll experience times of joy and of sorrow. Your new lives will not be trouble-free. You'll have problems and burdens like any human. Your loved ones can be hurt and they can die. You will die eventually and I don't know how long you have. And I don't know how it will happen — except it won't be at the hands of a supernatural being. You will be free to live your lives as you choose, bearing the consequences — good or bad — of those choices. Nothing you have hunted in the past will be able to touch you. You can experience life in a way you never have before. It will be a full _human_ experience."

I am trying to make them understand that what's God is offering is not a perfect life, but it can be everything they've ever wanted it to be. "I believe with everything that I am that you can be happy."

The brothers are quiet but they glance at each other, scanning for any indication of what the other brother wants. Sam turns his head to me. "Would we remember being hunters?"

"Yes," I say. Their experiences as hunters has shaped who they are today. If I made them forget, they would be different people. And I hope that remembering would help them appreciate their new lives even more.

Sam stands, walking away — thinking it through. When Dean rises, so do I. He looks at me for a long moment before moving to Sam.

"You've wanted this your whole life," he says. "You need to do this."

"What about you?" Sam asks.

"I can't. I've tried this before and all I did was it screw up."

"Then I'll keep hunting, too," Sam declares.

"No, Sam," Dean speaks to him as an authoritative, protective brother. It's a part of him that's more often than not been locked away since the Mark was removed. It's back now, in full force. "I pulled you back in time and again. I'm not holding you back this time. You need to get out while you can."

"It's not happening." Sam raises his voice in defiance. He learned long ago how to stand up to his big brother.

"Yes, it is," Dean shouts over him.

"Listen to me," Sam sighs, realizing that arguing won't help. He leans in closer to his sibling, getting into his personal space, and is unapologetic about it. "I'm okay with hunting. I'll do it and I'll be fine. But this is your chance. You love Lisa and Ben. And they love you. You can be with them.

"No," Dean mutters, his jaw tight. He moves away from Sam. Away from the challenge his brother has issued. He seems suddenly smaller than usual. "I've tried being with them. All I did was hurt them."

"It'll be different this time," Sam tries again. "Nothing will be hanging over your head."

"I won't …." Dean's voice rises.

"Why? Because you're afraid you'll hurt them again?"

"Just stop!" Dean bellows. "I'm not going back to them."

"Give them the choice at least. Maybe _not_ being with you is hurting them, too."

"NO!"

"Dean …."

"I can't, Sam. When it doesn't work out …. I can't go through that again." Dean's breath is rapid and heavy as he grabs his chest. His rising panic attack has pulled out his true feelings, and he looks none too pleased about that.

Sam's face falls as the revelation hits. As he realizes the root of Dean's fear, he reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. Dean refuses to allow himself to succumb to the panic attack and shrugs off Sam's attempt to comfort him.

Sam takes a step back to give his brother some space, but he sets himself in a rigid stance. "We're both out or we're both in."

Dean shakes off his moment of weakness and appeals to Sam. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"Yes, it does," I break in. "Well, it doesn't but it's better if you're together on this." They both pivot toward me, their argument cut off by my comment. I should have told them sooner, I guess, but I wanted them both to come to their own decisions without pressure.

"If one goes and one stays, your past as brothers would be erased."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

It's funny. Since I was a kid, I did everything I could to get away from the life of hunting. It was years after Dean and I started hunting together that I finally accepted this life. And I've been content despite all the hellish things we've been through. Sometimes, I've even enjoyed it. I love the research and I love sitting next to my brother in the Impala when we hit the road together.

Now that I have accepted it, an opportunity to stop has just been thrown into my lap. Just like that, I allow myself to hope that it's possible to live a normal life. But Dean is so damned stubborn, he won't consider it. I know he was ripped apart by what happened last time he tried to have a family. Because I came back into his life — without a soul no less — his nice, normal life fell apart.

Now he wants me to leave this life without him. I can't do that, especially after what Cas has told us. If I quit and Dean doesn't, we'll cease to exist for each other. With that little detail, I suddenly find it difficult to get air into my lungs.

"What?" Dean's husky voice fills the silence.

"It would be to protect the one who stops hunting. If one of you continues to hunt, the other would be in danger. Demons, angel, monsters … they use any leverage they can find," Cas explains. "Dean, they would use Sam to get to you. But if you don't remember each other …."

"That's not happening," I blurt out. The worst thing I can think of is not remembering Dean. Not remembering what we've been through together and how he's always had my back. I'd rather die.

I look at Dean for confirmation that he would never allow that. I think he wants to quit hunting, but he's afraid. But, if he can't quit, then I will keep hunting right by his side.

His body is tense and his eyes are closed. My breath hitches as I realize he's considering it. He's actually thinking about letting Cas wipe our memories of each other. I can't even imagine what I would be without him. He's had such as presence in my life that I know, even without those memories, a huge hole would be left in me.

"Dean," I cry out, grabbing his shoulders. I realize how frantic I sound and I don't care. I want him to hear how panicked I am at the thought. "After everything we've been through, we can't just forget each other."

He lifts his eyes to meet mine and scans my face. "That won't happen, Sammy."

I breathe again. When I let go of him, he falls limply into a chair with his hands covering his head. He can't face the normal, everyday, domestic life. I see that now. So there's our answer.

"We'll keep hunting," I tell Cas, and I am resigned to it.

The angel shakes his head and releases a sigh, his disappointment apparent. "Well," he says, "it is your choice."

Dean remains motionless, and put my hand on his back to show that whatever happens, we're together in this.

Dean is muttering. I can't understand what he's saying, but I can tell he's upset.

"It's okay, Dean," I try to assure him, though I worry that my voice fails to be convincing.

Lifting his head, he looks from me to Cas. "No," he says, with a stronger voice this time. He stands, locking his eyes with mine.

"You're not hunting anymore, Sam."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

I don't know why the very thought of being normal terrifies me so much. I admit that the thought of not hunting anymore has been in my head more often than not lately. And I certainly thought about it when I was with Lisa last night. But I convinced myself that I am a hunter — a killer. Just because the Mark it gone, that doesn't erase what I've done. I can never be the kind of husband or father that anyone would deserve. Not Lisa and Ben. Not anyone else.

Sam keeps pushing, telling me to take the chance. All I can say is no. I can't — not anymore. My life is in that Impala killing the things that need to be killed. Sam's doesn't have to be. I've been alone before; I can be alone again — as long as I know Sam is safe. As long as Lisa and Ben are safe. As long as I can put that barrier around my heart again, I'll be okay.

Still, my brother pushes. Give Lisa a choice, he tells me. My chest starts to hurt and my heart starts pounding. I recognize the signs. Another damned panic attack. I grab my chest to slow my breathing and before I know it, my greatest fear has been revealed. Lisa hurt me before, she can do it again.

"I can't go through that again," I say, and I realize I've said it out loud.

I put everything I have into pushing down the panic attack, but to do that, I have to shut down my emotions. It takes a minute and the damage has already been done. My brother is hovering over me so I push him away.

There's been too much sentiment. Too much grief. Too much to feel. Even Cas started to get mushy on us, telling Sam and me how much we mean to him. Of course I care about the guy. He's like a brother to me. But it's all too much, especially when he pretty much told us that he's out of here, too.

But Sam forces me to listen to the story Cas has to tell. Regardless of what Cas believes, I can't live a normal life. I've closed those doors and they can't be opened again. I watch my little brother hang on to every word Cas was saying and it hits me like a tons of bricks. He wants out.

If I love my brother, I have to let him go. That's what my dream was about. It wasn't about one of us dying. It was about him living. But my life is over. I'll keep plugging along like I always have. I'll kill the bad things that threaten innocent people. But going through the motions will be all I can muster. But Sam can have a future if I will just let him.

And then Cas springs it on us: If Sam goes but I stay, our memories of each other will be wiped out. The air is pushed out of my lungs when I hear that. Every moment I've spent looking out for him, worrying about him, relying on him. It would all be gone. Half of me would be gone as well. And the part that's left would be worthless.

Sam grabs me and pulls me to face him. His eyes are filled as he begs me not to let that happen. As I search his devastated face, I know that I can't move on without knowing that my brother is safe and happy. If I can't remember him, I can't know that he's okay. There would be a constant itch in my soul that I would never be able to scratch.

"That won't happen," I promise him. This entire conversation has taken everything out of me. I fall into the nearest chair because my legs won't support me anymore. Not only am I exhausted because I haven't slept more than a few hours the past couple of days, I am emotionally spent after being with Lisa. Telling her that I couldn't stay be with her. Letting her convince me to spend the night. I hoped that when I left, I could find the energy to go through another arduous goodbye with Ben. Honestly, I'm sure how I'm going to pull myself together for him.

Sam tells Cas we'll both keep hunting. The defeated sound of his voice gives me a clarity I haven't felt since I got the Mark of Cain in the first place. Taking care of my little brother has given me more purpose in my life than anything else. I won't stop now.

"No," I utter, but it's much too weak to get their attention much less make a point. I say it again. "No."

I feel Sam's hand settle onto my back trying to make be believe he's fine with this.

"No." Damn it. No. Still, my voice is hardly more than a whisper.

"It's okay, Dean," he's is telling me. He sounds resigned to the idea. He's ready to sacrifice his life again.

I life my head, forcing the word out of my mouth again. "No," I push myself up to face my brother. "You're not hunting anymore, Sam."

Dean …." He takes my arm, supporting me as I stand. All the blood has drained from his face. I realize I'm not exactly being clear. He thinks I want him to quit alone. He thinks I have the strength to let go of our past together. To let go of him. I can't do that. Ever.

"We're out. You _and_ me …," I say. "No more hunting."

I give him my best impression of a man who is sure of what he wants. "We've been through enough. It's time for something else — anything else.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and he almost makes me believe he would be happy either way. But I know the truth.

"I'm sure." So he can't see the conflict in my eyes, I turn immediately to Cas. "What now?"

A smile crosses the angel's face, revealing what he wanted all along. "It's a good choice," he says. "You know I'll always watch over you."

"Yeah," I attempt a smile.

At least there's that.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: I'm sorry that it's been a little longer than I expected to update this. In the last chapter, Dean and Sam have decided to quit hunting. In this chapter, you'll see where they go from there. Thanks for sticking with me with this story. Only one more chapter after this one.**

* * *

 **Leaning In**

It's quite the process to end one life and begin another. We've burned a lot of bridges along they way, and I guess God has the ability to rebuild them. At least that what Cas says.

Whatever we decide to do, a fresh history of our lives will be created and backed up in public records. Sam can suddenly be a college graduate if he chooses. He says he's rather finish on his own, but Cas assures him that he already knows what he needs. He's more than earned that degree in the past 10 years.

"No," Sam insists. "If I get a degree, I'll do it on my own."

Sam's never been one to accept short cuts, but he relents to have the credits he would have gotten the semester I came to get him. That leaves him with only a semester left. He can pick up where he left off at Stanford. Cas tells him to say the word and he'll be accepted. He seems less excited than I would have expected.

I haven't figured out my future yet, so creating a past is difficult. Cas is unconcerned. When I'm ready, make a choice. The facts will be there.

Incredible. Just by saying so, our lives will be different. No criminal records. No fake names. No presumed deaths. I'll just be Dean Winchester whose mother died in an accidental house fire when I was four years old. Cas suggests a military background to explain my aptitude with firearms.

"Yeah, maybe," I say, though I think it's more likely I'll never pick up a gun again. Regardless what the public records say, forgetting what we've been through — that may never happen. As much as I know that I don't deserve this new start, Sam does. So I'll do it for him. That doesn't mean I can forget the things I've done.

Sam and Cas look at me with mouths gaping when I announce that whatever I do, it won't include Lisa and Ben. I won't destroy their lives with my baggage. If I was a wreck before, after Sam jumped in the cage with Lucifer, I'm ten times a worse now. I don't have anything to offer them.

"What will you do?" Sam asks, the lines on his forehead creased together.

"I'll find a job," I say offhandedly. I know how to fix cars. I know how to build houses. Hell, maybe I can buy a plot of land in the country. Open spaces, fresh air and being alone sounds pretty good to me. I think I can do anything with my hands so I'm not worried about making a living. But they seem to be worried for me.

Cas is giving me his 'I know what you're feeling' look, so I turn away and start packing up our things.

"It's not like we're leaving today," Sam points out. "We can stay here while sort through things. For a few days or weeks. Months even."

"Yeah," I mutter, but I need to keep busy so I keep packing.

Meanwhile, Cas keeps explaining the specifics. Once we're out, if either of us dabbles in anything supernatural in nature, the floodgates will open and our protection will be gone. He warns us not to even recite a spell. And not ever try to help someone who may be threatened by a monster of any kind. Even our tattoos that protect us from demon possession will have to come off.

"If only one you opens that door, you both will find yourself back in the life," he says. Though my back is to him, I know he's looking at me.

"Nothing supernatural," I say snidely. "Got it."

"Not even an angel," he adds, and it takes a few seconds for that to sink in. My head snaps back to him.

"No talking to angels?" I ask, stunned by this new development. When Cas warned us not to open that door, I guess I thought he meant the bad supernatural stuff. "Not even you?"

"I'm supernatural," he says, glancing away from me.

"Oh." I look to Sam as he watches Cas with with equal dismay.

"So this is it?" Sam asks. "When you leave, we'll never see you again?"

"Not in this life, no," the angel explains. "You can pray to me. I'll hear it. I'll always listen. But conversations like this …." his voice fades away. He looks as grieved by that as we are. "You need to understand, I may not be able to do as much for you as I would like. If a loved one is ill on in danger, I cannot intervene or .…"

"The floodgates will open," Sam finishes for him.

"Yes." Cas awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other before he looks back again to us, first to Sam and then to me. "I will look out for you though, doing what I can."

"Yeah," I say mostly because I have no other words. I think about everything the three of us have been through as wave of sadness hits. I'm frozen by the memories of that first terrifying encounter when he said I was pulled from hell because, he said, I had work for me to do. From there, we forged an unlikely bond that survived an apocalypse, deceit, betrayal, a trip to purgatory and the Mark of Cain.

Sam takes a few quick steps to Cas and pulls him into a tight hug. Cas responds by embracing him back. When Sam pulls away, he keeps his hands on the angel's shoulders. My mind is still reeling from all the changes that I can barely register what he's saying to Cas. Something about thanking him for all he's done. Something about missing him. I don't know if I can take another emotional goodbye. But Cas has been the best friend we've ever had, and I have a few things to say while I can.

Steeling myself, I step up to him. "You know, man. I was damned lucky you were the angel you pulled me out of hell. No matter what happens, we're family."

He gives me a tilted smile under a pair of sad eyes. "I think I was damned lucky, too, to have you as a friend." This from the angel who lost everything because he chose to be our friend.

"I know what you gave up for us …."

"I gained more," he says. I know he's not talking about his new status as an archangel.

Despite myself, I pull him in for a hug as well. After a few moments, I back away, giving him a firm pat on his arm, trying not to show how torn up I am that I'm losing someone else I care about.

As has been the case, he senses my feelings. "You'll be fine, Dean," he says. "This new life, it's not about just surviving. You can be happy if you're willing to take a chance."

I shake my head, knowing that he's talking about Lisa and Ben. I can't take a lecture on why I need to with them, and I don't want to prolong this goodbye. So I figure it's time to hit the road. I turn my back again on Cas and Sam.

"Dean." Cas is behind me standing much too close for my comfort. "Look at me."

Something in the way he says it makes me obey.

"We've all screwed up. Me more than you and Sam put together. The Mark, demon blood, Leviathan." I don't miss the fact that he lists each of our worst mistakes. "It's all behind us now. None of it matters anymore. You need to forgive yourself. You _do_ deserve happiness."

"Hmmph." The sounds slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. It feels like Cas reading my mind, but he would just deny it if I accused him of it.

"You — more than anyone I've ever known — have never failed to do whatever it takes to finish a mission." His voice is strong. Assured. It's like he wants his last words to me to mean something. " _This_ is your next mission. Perhaps even your final mission. Maybe it won't work, but I think it will. If it doesn't, then at least you'll know you gave everything you had into making a good life out of the ordinary. And putting everything into this means allowing yourself love and be loved. Because without that, Dean, you won't have a chance."

Without waiting for me to answer, he steps back, having said what he wanted to say. Of course Sam takes the opportunity to pounce as well. I lower my head because I can't look at him in the eye.

"Do you love them, Dean?" It's a simple question and he already knows the answer. I think of the time I spent with Lisa just a few hours before. I remember her tears as I left and I remember an exhausted boy who wanted to stay with me as long as he could.

And I think of what my life will be without hunting to fill the time. Without the bad guys to take out my aggression. Without a purpose to keep me going. And I remember when I lost Sam to Lucifer and that cage, the only thing that did keep me alive was being a part of that family.

Sam is waiting for an answer, and he's not moving until he gets one. I draw my gaze back to him. "I don't even know if they'll let me stay."

Sam keeps his expression even. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

The 1967 black Impala that sits in the parking lot has - for the first time since Mom died - no weapons in the back. Cas took them all. This is harder than I imagined it would be. Some of those weapons belonged to Dad, and some I made myself. I'm just glad I can keep the car. It's a connection to Dad that would have killed me if I had to give it up.

Cas flew us to the bunker to collect our personal items. The spell books, any books on lore and even Dad's journal had to stay behind. I gave the journal to Cas for safekeeping because I can't bear for it to be in unfamiliar hands.

Only a few remnants of our past were allowed, including the few pictures we had of our parents and one of us with Bobby. And there's a creased photo of Sam and me before the weight of all we've been through had been etched on our faces. It was in the days when we could kill the monster and enjoy a beer afterward. Before Sam died — the first time. Before I sold my soul. Before Lucifer and before the Mark. The smiles on our faces were genuine, though I don't remember what we were laughing about. I rub my finger along the crease doubting that I'll ever feel that light-hearted again.

I looked up to see Cas holding his hand out for the photo. I gave it to him. He grasped it between his palms, and made it perfect again — not faded or creased. Then he pulled it apart to reveal that he created another copy, handing one to Sam and the other back to me.

"Thank you," I said, amazed by the little things an angel can do.

I also learned that Sam kept the amulet he gave me all those years ago that I threw away in anger. I gaped at him as it dangled between his fingers. He caught my look, but he didn't offer an explanation of why he still had it.

Cas argued that it was a beacon to find God. Sam insisted to him it was just a reminder of me. Cas tilted his head skyward and came back with the verdict that Sam could keep it. It was just an amulet with no special powers. Apparently, God turned it off all those years back when Cas used it to try to find him.

When Sam got the answer he wanted, he looked at me, asking for my permission as well. I nodded. That he kept the amulet epitomizes our relationship. When one was too weak to keep fighting, the other held on for both of us.

Cas also handed us brand new credit cards for which we now will be responsible for paying, new driver's licenses that now say we live in Michigan, and two checkbooks, both with a balance higher than we've ever had at any one time in our lives.

Cas told us the money was given to us so Sam could finish his education and I could buy that little plot of land I was thinking about.

I didn't bother to chide him for reading my mind again.

With our lives whittled to a few meager possessions, Cas left us for the final time.

Sam and I stand aimlessly in the hotel room — at a loss of what to do next. I pull back the edge of my shirt to survey the spot where my tattoo used to be. The clear skin looks odd to me. It's ironic how the absence of that tattoo will be the most stark reminder of the life I'm leaving behind.

After a few minutes, Sam breaks the silence, "Go see Lisa."

"I don't want to leave you alone," I say. At least not yet. I'm still trying find the strength to let him go. I believe with everything in me that he will have a better chance at his new life without me around. I can't tell him that yet. He would give me a dozen reasons why we need to stay together. I've thought of them all too, but I know he needs to do this on his own.

"I'm good," he tells me, nodding to his laptop. "I going to check out colleges, figure out if I want to go back. Cas wiped away any trace of the searches I used to do. You know, the stuff I had to research."

He's careful not to use the words, so I let out a dry chuckle. The things that consumed our lives not five minutes ago are now taboo. I'm sure Cas was thorough so I don't worry about what he'll find on his computer. Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to face Lisa. I'm terrified that she'll say yes and even more afraid that she'll say no.

I'm not completely sure of this direction I'm taking, but Cas was right. I have to _do_ something. To _try_ anything.

But that first step is a bitch.

"Dean," Sam looks at me with his most annoying expression — the one where he looks concerned, compassionate and badgering at the same time . "I want you to be happy, and I think you can be with Lisa. And you promised Ben you would see him."

"Yeah, I should," I relent. "But you …."

"Don't worry about me, okay?"

Don't worry about him? Seriously? Does he remember who he's talking to?

"Sammy, I don't care what else changes in our lives," I say, grabbing his shoulders, unabashed by how I feel about about my brother at this moment. "Wherever this new life takes us, one thing will never change. I will _never_ stop worrying about you. You're still my little brother."

Sam stares at me with those doleful eyes and looks like he could break into tears at any moment. I know what's coming next. I can see it all over his face, so I brace for the bone-crushing hug that he gives me. I lean into it and tighten my arms around him. This day has been choke full of chick flick moments, so why stop now.

* * *

xxxxxXxxxxx

* * *

I'm leaning against the front end of the Impala with my face toward the sun seeking out any warmth I can find while my brother knocks on Lisa's door to face his first challenge of this new venture of ours.

He convinced me not to stay at the hotel alone. I agreed to come with him in case Lisa rejects him and he needs me. Truthfully, I don't want to be alone. Neither does he. We're both taking a huge leap here. I guess we're both feeling out of place right now. This life is still uncertain to us and, we still find more comfort in each other than anything else.

He's sure that I will finish my degree and head straight into the most prestigious law school I can find. I'm not so sure about that anymore. That dream ended 10 years ago when Jessica died. More than once during the years since, I thought about going back to school. But a career in law just doesn't appeal to me anymore.

So I'm faced with a future of not knowing where to go or what to do. I'll finish my bachelor's degree, I suppose, and maybe I'll look into grad school. Or maybe I'll just find a bartending job to pay the bills.

If Lisa says yes, Dean says that he wants to take things slowly this time — not move in with her right away. He keeps talking about how much of a mess he is and he needs time to pull himself together. So I'll stay, too. For a while. Until I decide what I want to do with my life. He's right about one thing. We don't need to move too fast.

Unless she says no, then we'll haul ass out of town. Maybe he would come with me to California. I could finish school and watch out for him, too.

I glance toward the house in time to see Dean enter at Lisa's invitation. She looks past him to me and I nod to her before returning my gaze to the horizon. I don't want to intrude even though I'm anxious to know how she responds to him.

Though I try to resist, my head tugs to the right and notice that I have a clear view through a picture window of her living room where Dean is talking to her. She's standing with her arms crossed. I cringe at her body language. She seems unsure of opening herself up to him again. Even though his back is to me, I can see that Dean is uncomfortable.

It's all I can do to stop myself from barging in on them — telling her that if he can take a chance on her, she should take a chance on him. Doesn't she know how hard this is for him? Doesn't she understand my brother at all?

She starts to walk out of the room and Dean grabs her hand, and she turns back to him. It's then that I see her face and all my indignation melts away. I realize that Dean is taking awhile to get to the point and she doesn't understand what he's trying to say.I move around to the side of the Impala and stare shamelessly into the window as Dean struggles to say what he came to say. He drops her hand and rubs his over his head — the most clear sign of how anxious he's feeling.

After several minutes, her expression changes from confusion to elation as she rushes into his arms. I breath out a sigh, a smile crossing my face. Okay then. Dean has his starting point. Now I need to figure out mine.

I should stop staring now that I know Dean will be okay. But I can't pull my eyes away. Watching him like this, a feeling I didn't expect creeps over me. I'm happy for him. I really am, but I realize that I'm a little bit disappointed. It means we will never have the place in each others lives that we have now. It means I need to leave him so he has a chance to make it work.

Ben enters the room, Dean is obviously telling him that he's sticking around, Ben also hugs him. They are Dean's family now. I look from Dean to Lisa and see that see's looking back at me. I glance away, but it's too late. She's heading my way.

I shift against the car, wondering if she'll tell me not to screw things up for them this time. They had a nice life until the soulless me intruded and pulled him away. But she doesn't need to worry. I would never stand in the way of Dean's happiness again.

"Hey," she says as leans against the car beside me.

"Hey. I … uh … I was just waiting for Dean …." I stammer, feeling like a peeping tom.

"Looks like you had the perfect view for the whole thing," she says, and she doesn't sound in the least annoyed.

"Yeah," I admit, deciding it's best fess up. "I'm sorry. It just that I needed to make sure he's okay."

"I understand," she answers, taking in the full view herself as Dean and Ben talk. "I'm glad. He needs you Sam, even if he's with us. You're part of our family, too."

She sounds like she actually means that.

"Thanks." I notice how she watches Dean. I can see she loves him, but I'm worried that it won't be enough. "You know, Dean and I have been through a lot. A lot of bad stuff."

She takes her gaze off the scene through the window and faces me. "I know."

"We've almost lost each other a few times," I press on, stuffing my hands in my pocket. "I thought I did lose him more than once."

Lisa tilts her head as she watches me, but I turn back to watch my brother as I speak.

"Do you know how we've made it through everything?" I don't wait for her to answer but I can see out of the corner of my eye that she's watching me. "We never gave up each other."

I face her again so she understands exactly what I'm saying. "Please. Don't ever give up on him."

"I won't," she assures me. "I promise."

"Okay," I nod, blowing out a relieved breath. If Dean's okay, then I'll be okay. "That's good."

Back inside the house, Dean glances through the window to Lisa and me. He has to know we're talking about him, but he just grins at us and focuses his attention back to Ben.

"Come on, Sam," she says, tugging at my arm. "Let's go inside. Dean's waiting for us."


End file.
